


Love of the Ages

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: 80s, F/M, Glam Metal, Pagan, Poison, Poison band, Time Travel, Time warp, hair metal, magick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Poison bassist Bobby Dall gets sick near the End of the "Look What the Cat Dragged In" tour in mid-1987. Such a thing's a common occurrence, so he doesn't think much of it as he pushes himself to finish out the tour so he can go home, rest, and recover.
Kudos: 2





	1. One

_July, 1987_

_Ashwaubenon, Wisconsin_

Tour was always the most grueling part about being a recording artist, the only thing to come in at a close second being the actual recording. In the studio, the entire band had to be in early in the Morn, like it or not, or risk losing the Time they paid quite a hefty sum for. On the road, they’d a rigorous schedule to keep, lest a venue try to back out on their contract for supposedly being a no-show or somebody get left behind.

Poison bassist Bobby Dall found that out the hard way after a grueling eight–or was it twelve?–Days in the studio to record his band’s debut album. If he’d thought having to all but drag three other party boys outta bed by their pubes and get them into the studio before they lost their recording Time was nuts, he’d been sadly mistaken. Even their so-called tours around the club circuit before getting signed to Capital Records was a piece of cake compared to this misery. But this was what they’d wanted, and this was what they’d to deal with, if they wanted to keep this band afloat and actually make it.

Over the last fifteen or sixteen months, this baby band had worn itself down to a nub–or at least, something that felt more like a nub than it didn’t. Between all the booze and chicks, not to mention their guitarist’s coke problem, things were beyond crazy for them. When they added their frontman’s diabetes–which he’d been diagnosed with as a child–to the mix, they got even crazier.

For one of them to get sick while they were on the road wasn’t exactly a big surprise, considering it was just part of Life. After all, they were crammed into close quarters around tons of other people, and when they were in more open Spaces, they were still exposed to folks who might be sick. The occasional cold was nothing for them, ’cuz they’d still get out on stage and rock the crowd’s socks off. Only being unable to keep their dinner down was gonna stop them, but since they were used to puking from being hungover, they didn’t even let that serve as an excuse. They couldn’t afford to let anything short of near Death–such as when frontman Bret’d to be hospitalized–keep them offstage.

“Hey, man–ya okay?”

Looking up from where he’d curled up on a couch in their dressing room, Bobby saw his band’s drummer.

“Yikes, Bob–ya don’t look so good,” the tallest blonde said with a wince.

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered, almost immediately having to sit up. The barking cough he let out just made his friend wince again, and almost as hard as he did, himself.

“Ya sure ya wanna go onstage like this?” Rikki asked. “Ya look and sound horrible, and it’s been getting worse for the past week or so.”

“I’m sure, Rik,” the bassist managed to answer. “Besides, it’s the last show of the tour–we can’t let the fans down now. If it were Bret and his diabetes acting up again, that’d be different, but we’re talking about me just catching a Summer cold.”

“If you’re sure,” he acquiesced. “I don’t care whatcha think–you’re still an integral part of this band. If it weren’t for you making us get up and get in the studio, we’d never’ve gotten the album recorded so we could even come out on this tour.”

“Yeah, well–the fans seem to think differently when faced with me and Bret both,” Bobby sighed. “They always seem to pick him as if none of the rest of us, especially me, even exist.”

“Don’t talk like that,” the drummer told him. “You’ve still got your own lil sect of fans who’d be totally lost withoutcha being part of their favorite band.”

“I dunno, maybe,” he sighed, laying back down. “Just lemme at least try to catch a nap before the show.”

Nodding, Rikki told him he’d make sure the guys stayed away from the dressing room till they absolutely had to start getting ready. Both knew how noisy and obnoxious they–especially their guitarist, CC–could be more often than not, and how any of them got when they were sick. The last thing the lone brunette of Poison needed right now was to be kept awake so that he was cranky at best, unable to storm the stage and perform at worst.

Left alone in the Peace and quiet of the dressing room with a blanket draped over him, said lone brunette readjusted the throw pillow he’d claimed. He refused to admit to the drummer that his throat was so dry and scratchy from all the coughing that he felt like he could barely breathe from how bad it burned. He also refused to admit how his chest felt like it was both on Fire, as well as growing heavier like there was fluid building up in his lungs. No matter what the price was in the End, he was determined to get out there and play that last show, ’cuz then he could go home and get some real rest.

* * *

After the show that Night, the musical quartet headed backstage once they’d played an encore and taken a group bow. They were all hot and sweaty, but that was typical after running around like maniacs under the hot stage Lights for an hour and a-half, two hours. Grateful for the cool, wet towels that were thrown at them by their techs, they started eagerly wiping themselves down, glad it was over till the next Time they headed out on tour.

What none of the blondes who made up three-quarters of the band realized was that their friend was doing way worse than he let on. He could barely breathe at this point, which they just attributed to how nuts he usually went during a performance with all his running, jumping, and spinning around. And that never included when he got a Wild Hare up his ass and decided to go crowd-surfing or something similar. They still hadn’t figured out how he managed to get away with such shenanigans without getting mauled, but he always made it back to the stage in one piece.

Flopping on the same couch he’d managed to nap on earlier, Bobby was grateful for the medic that actually noticed his distress. The guy knelt down next to him and handed him a mask, and he was glad to see it already connected to a green tank topped by a valve. Greedily taking the mask, he held it over his face and gasped in as much Air as he could, too weak to fight back as the guy started wrapping something around his upper arm. That caught the rest of the guys’ attention, and they were immediately worried as the medic fitted something under whatever he’d wrapped around his arm.

Unfortunately, the oxygen flowing from the tank did nothing to help the delirium, which was brought on by a combination of dehydration, the heat of the stage Lights, and the fever he’d already been running. Before the medic could even get his blood pressure, the bassist’s eyes rolled up in his head as he went forward, already out cold.

_“BOBBY!”_


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon waking up on his first Morn home, Bobby doesn't find himself in Los Angeles–or even 1987.

When Bobby became aware of his surroundings again, part of him was surprised to feel something far softer than a ratty couch under his side. The pillow that was under his head was also softer than the one he’d used during his nap, but it was also firmer in a weird sorta way. He supposed he didn’t particularly care, ’cuz waking in what had to’ve been a bed could only mean one thing–the guys’d made sure he was all right and just gonna sleep off that last show, then taken him home. There was no denying that he was sick and that he needed to rest in Peace and quiet, after all, so he couldn’t think of any other explanations.

It was only when he made to roll over and relieve the pressure on his arm that’d made it go numb that he became aware of something even stranger. The bed was warmer than he thought it shoulda been for sleeping alone–which he actually wasn’t, judging by what he felt. He could feel the warmth of another person, and a certain softness against his back that he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

Managing to roll over enough to peek over his shoulder, the bassist was startled to find a woman who appeared about his own age behind him. She might not’ve been the most beautiful to some men, but she was definitely what he’d have to call _his type_. Her Olive complexion was similar to his own, although maybe a bit paler in a few select spots that obviously didn’t get much Sun. The pin-straight hair spread across the pillow they’d both apparently had their head on was roughly the same Color as his own, which was about the shade of Chocolate.

However, it was her eyes that–even closed in sleep–caught and held his attention like no other attribute she possessed. They were obviously tilted at the outer corners, and it looked kinda like they were tilted up rather than down like his own were. Bobby’s brow furrowed in Thought as he wondered if that meant she’d Native American blood in her veins like he did, or if she was part-Asian. He didn’t suppose it mattered either way–he was more interested in how she’d gotten into his bed without him noticing.

_“Mmm,”_ she hummed, the grip on his waist that he hadn’t noticed tightening a bit.

Unsure of what to do, he tried to lay still and avoid waking her.

“What the–” The young woman cracked open her eyes, almost immediately bolting upright as she realized she wasn’t alone.

Now definitely unsure and more than a bit terrified, the bassist’s eyes widened as he laid stock-still.

“Wait a minute–Bobby Dall?” she gasped, gently cupping his cheek in one hand.

“Ya know who I am?” was all he could ask, unable to help flinching at the gentle touch since he didn’t know this young woman, or what she might be planning.

“Yeah, I know who ya are,” she chuckled. “I’d be pretty stupid not to, what with _that_ hanging on my wall.”

Looking in the Direction she pointed, Bobby saw a dozen records hanging in the corner of two walls in two different rows. In the top-left corner of the square made up by four of them, he saw something that was all too familiar to him–the cover Art of his band’s album. Right beside it was another album that bore his band’s logo, but he didn’t recognize the demonic-looking woman between it and the yellow text at the bottom that he couldn’t make out from across the room.

The only other framed albums that he recognized were AC/DC’s _Back in Black,_ Quiet Riot’s _Metal Health,_ Twisted Sister’s _Come Out and Play,_ and the Mötley Crüe albums _Shout at the Devil_ and _Theatre of Pain_. Beyond that, none of the albums were any more familiar to him than the second with his band’s logo, which confused him.

“Well, I can see how and why you’d recognize me, if you’ve _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ hanging on your wall,” he said.

“Yeah, it’d be kinda hard _not_ to recognize my favorite member,” the young woman laughed.

Surprised, all Bobby could do was look at her.

“Since I know your name, prolly best to introduce myself,” she told him. “My name’s Lyra, like the Constellation, but I usually prefer my middle name.”

“And what’s your middle name supposed to be?” the bassist asked curiously.

“Aerin. The way it’s spelled, ya wouldn’t think it’s pronounced that way, ’cuz it’s a variant spelling based on a series of books,” she chuckled.

“Um, okay,” he said, his expression twisting into one of confusion. “Not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I know one thing–I gotta piss, and bad.”

“Bathroom’s at the End of the hall,” Aerin told him, pointing to the right as she opened the bedroom door once she got up to let him outta bed. “I’d suggest crawling out on this side, or you’ll be as likely to trip over your own feet as I am.”

Nodding, Bobby crawled outta bed behind her, glad to see that he was at least in his boxers as he headed down the short all. He found it kinda odd that the washing machine was in a lil alcove right outside the bathroom door, but there wasn’t a dryer in sight. Deciding that it didn’t really matter–and that he really had to go–he closed the door behind him so he could take care of business.

He was startled when the door opened slightly, even though he’d noticed this was an older house and that it didn’t quite fit in the jamb properly. Seeing a Dark lil whiskered face peep in startled him further, but at least he was still aiming for the toilet–and the beast the face belonged to didn’t attack him. While he preferred Cats over Dogs, unlike most men, this one didn’t seem like it liked very many people as it jumped into the litter box he now noticed in the floor beside the bathroom counter. That was an odd spot to keep a litter box, but he shrugged it off as he flushed and turned to wash his hands.

In the bedroom he’d come outta just a couple minutes ago, the bassist found Aerin waiting with a set of clothes on the bed. She apologized for them likely being not quite his size, but said they were the only things she had that she thought might fit him. His only other choice was to run around in his boxers, and while that might be fine around the house, he didn’t exactly wanna step out for a smoke without at least jeans on his lower half, too.

“All right, I gotta ask,” he said as they sat on a lil porch together a few minutes later. “Where the hell am I?”

“Burlington, North Carolina,” the young woman answered on a drag. Her being a smoker, too, had taken him a bit by surprise.

“Wait, where?” Bobby asked, confused.

“’Bout twenty-five miles from Greensboro,” she chuckled. “I seem to recall Poison playing there or near there a few Times on the _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ tour–and they definitely have since.”

“Yeah, that was gonna be one of my next questions,” the bassist admitted. “What the hell was that album next to our debut? I don’t recognize it, but it’s got my band’s logo on it.”

“That’d be Poison’s sophomore album, _Open Up and Say…Ahh!”_ Aerin answered. “Sadly, and I’m not quite sure how to tell ya this besides bluntly–you’re not featured on it.”

“What?” He nearly choked on the drag he was taking from gasping in surprise. “Whaddaya mean, I’m not featured on it? I’m the bassist of Poison!”

“Ya _were,”_ the young woman corrected him. “After your disappearance, the guys tried to find ya–but when all the leads dried up, they were forced to move on.”

“Wait, what? Whaddaya mean, I disappeared?” He was having trouble processing what she was telling him.

Pulling something outta her pocket that confounded him to no End, she tapped her finger on its glass front a few Times. After a few moments, she started to read what was now displayed on that glass front aloud, and his eyes widened till he thought they’d pop outta his skull. What he was hearing’d be a shock to just about anyone, so he was sure he wouldn’t have been the only one to have that reaction, if they’d read or heard this.

_“In July, 1987, Poison concluded their first major tour in support of their debut album. Bassist Bobby Dall was reportedly ill at that last show, so they took him to seek medical treatment following a post-concert blackout. When they went to visit him at St. Mary’s Hospital in nearby Green Bay, Wisconsin the next Morn, they were disturbed to find that their friend and band mate’d disappeared.”_

“Well, I definitely wasn’t feeling too good after that show,” the bassist admitted. “Weak and lightheaded, but I guess that’s what I get for going onstage when I knew I was sick.”

_“An extensive search that eventually turned into a nationwide manhunt yielded no leads on the twenty-three-Year-old’s whereabouts,”_ Aerin continued reading. _“After six months of searching to no avail, the band was forced to move on, even though they never gave up Hope. They begged anyone with info on their friend to call the local authorities, but still chose a teenager by the name of Richie Kotzen as their new bassist.”_

“Wait, really?” he asked, his jaw dropping.

“Yeah, and I gotta say, he’s a damn good bassist–not to mention pretty cute, even for an old man,” the young woman answered with a chuckle.

Moments later, Bobby was faced with a picture of a man who looked pretty similar to him, what with his almost identical complexion and hair Color. The difference was that this kid had eyes a few shades Darker than even Bret’s were, and a serious expression that he wondered whether it stayed the same or not. There was a somewhat Dark look to those eyes, as if he were a cold, calculating personality just waiting for the right moment to strike, and it made him shiver.

Aerin went on to explain that it was Richie who’d played on their next two albums, _Open Up_ and another one they’d entitled in _Flesh and Blood_. Creative differences’d led to them parting ways after the tour that accompanied the latter album Ended early in the Summer of 1991, and that was what caught his attention next.

When he’d played that last show with the guys, it was the Summer of 1987, so he was confused about _when_ he was, not just _where_. The answer to that question after he asked it was downright shocking–he’d passed out in the Summer of 1987, only to wake up in the Spring of 2016. Not only that, but he’d woken up nearly three thousand miles away from home in North Carolina, rather than at least waking up in Los Angeles. Better yet, he coulda at least woken up in whatever hospital he’d apparently been taken to up in Green Bay, if nowhere else that was familiar to him. Maybe then, he’d stand a chance of finding his friends, even if they appeared far older when they were supposed to be the same age.

Sighing softly, the young woman shook out another cigarette, which she held out to him like she could sense that he needed it. Before she said anything, she shook out a second cigarette that she stuck between her own lips and quickly lit. Letting out that first drag, she told him that there must be a reason why he’d both teleported _and_ Time Traveled while totally unaware of what was going on. Bobby could certainly agree there, grumbling about how the Universe must hate him to do this to him.

“Honestly, I don’t think that’s anywhere close to the reason,” she told him.

“Whaddaya mean by that?” the bassist asked, cocking a brow as he took another drag of his own.

“Well, they say the Universe works in Mysterious ways,” Aerin said. “If there’s nothing else I’ve learned as a Witch, that’s the one thing I’ve definitely learned and filed away.”

“Wait, you’re a Witch?” he cried, his back hitting the side of the house as he tried to back away from her.

“Don’t get those boxers I gave ya in a wad,” the young woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “If I was gonna hurtcha, the knife under my pillow’d be in your chest, or I’d have slit your throat with it as soon as I woke up.”

“Well, that’s certainly Comforting to know,” Bobby grumbled, his free hand unconsciously rising to caress his throat protectively.

“Point being, I’ve an open mind–far more open than many gimme credit for,” she continued. “I know that some things which seem like a Fantasy’re entirely possible. After all, there’s an Infinite number of Worlds, and what’s Fantasy in this one must be Truth in another–so maybe something’s not as much a Fantasy as it first seems.”

The bassist was struck by the Timeless Wisdom in her words, considering how young she looked to him.

“Your teleportation and Time Travel could very well be a result of something ya did or said,” Aerin told him. “Or maybe it’s a result of something ya _didn’t_ do or say, and shoulda.”

“I–yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighed, recalling his and Rikki’s last conversation before he was left alone for the nap he’d wanted.

Cocking a brow, she simply looked at him as she took another drag, and he couldn’t help another sigh as he stubbed out and dragged a hand down his face. Bobby realized that this young woman, no matter how eccentric she might seem, could very well be his one and only ally in this strange new place. If he pissed her off, she might not help him with anything short of wiping his ass, but rather throw him out onto the streets to fend for himself.

He explained to her that–in being exhausted, delirious, and kinda down in the dumps–he’d told the drummer how it seemed like the fans didn’t even care about him and his role in the band. They always seemed to gravitate toward Bret, although the tallest blonde still got a lotta the attention focused on him, too. It was the shortest blonde, CC, who was almost painfully shy, and the lone brunette who’d to fight for the attention he both wanted and needed. And without setting his sights on a girl backstage he knew the frontman wanted–which often caused fist fights between them–he couldn’t seem to get it.

Aerin sighed as she pondered his explanation, quickly realizing what the whole point in his teleportation and Time Travel was supposed to be. She wasn’t gonna tell him, ’cuz she’d the feeling he needed to learn this on his own, but he was supposed to see what the World would be like without him. He needed to see what’d happen, if he’d disappeared rather than how history was really supposed to go.

Putting those Thoughts aside so she wouldn’t clue him in too soon, the young woman looked him in the eye and told him they’d a few things to take care of. Since they didn’t know how long he’d be in 2016–or if he could even ever Return to 1987 at all–he’d to fit in better than what he currently did. She told him that leather pants pretty much went outta style in the 1990s unless one was a biker, and the big hair of the 1980s certainly had. His not having any clothes besides what she’d given him also called for a shopping trip, and the sooner they got it done, the better.


	3. Three

Later that afternoon, Bobby found himself helping to haul the the numerous shopping bags that filled the trunk and back seat of a certain young woman’s SUV. Well, she’d told him that it was really an acronym for _sports utility vehicle,_ and that she more often called it a truck than anything else. He supposed those facts didn’t much matter in the grand scheme of things, considering what a fucked-up Day he’d had after waking up.

The World around him was so strange and different, and not just ’cuz he was in one of the few bigger Cities in North Carolina. Aerin told him it wasn’t as big as Charlotte, or even Greensboro, but the City of Burlington was decently big in its own right. Compared to other small towns–such as the one she hailed from about ten miles away–it might as well’ve been as big as Los Angeles.

Walking in the door that led to the porch where they’d been smoking, he was startled to see another woman on the couch. He’d noticed another SUV parked in the driveway, but he’d thought it was just a spare for when the young woman in front of him needed it. Realizing that someone else–who actually looked a lot like an older version of his ally–lived here was enough to make him wanna scream. Maybe she was another friend, or maybe she was a foe, but he was tempted to run back out the door so he wouldn’t have to find out.

“Bobby Dall?” the older woman breathed, her hazel eyes wide in shock.

“Yeah, this is Bobby Dall, and no, you’re not seeing shit, Mama,” Aerin said.

“What the hell’s going on?” she asked.

“Got me,” the young woman answered. “Imagine my surprise to wake up and find him in my bed with me when we both know I went to bed alone last Night.”

“But–he’s so young!”

“Well, I _am_ only twenty-three,” he said, his tone sounding a bit sassier than he meant for it to. “Or at least, that’s how old I’m _supposed_ to be.”

“Hon, you’re in 2016–you’re supposed to be in your fifties,” she told him.

Surprised, the bassist’s mouth opened and closed as he floundered for a response.

“She’s right, Bobby,” his ally sighed. “If ya hadn’t done all this teleporting and Time Traveling, you’d be a fifty-two-Year-old single father of two.”

“Wait, what?” Bobby damn near squawked like a Parrot.

“Remember what I told ya about your band earlier?” she countered.

Nodding, all he could do was pick up the bags of clothing he’d dropped in his shock.

“Well, this is basically an alternate Reality,” Aerin started. “If you’d stayed when and where you’re supposed to be, you’d have gone on to be featured on those two albums I told ya about, get married, and have two kids.”

“Not to mention get divorced around 2000,” the older woman spoke up. “Which’d be why you’re supposed to be a single father.”

“Well, clearly, I’m not married, nor am I father–that I know of,” he sighed. “If I’ve any kids running around out there, they’re with groupies I only had one-Night stands with.”

Laughing, the younger woman told him that was a possibility, even if he’d stayed in the correct Time and place. After all, rubbers weren’t nearly as reliable as one’d like to think they were, even here in the Future–they broke and allowed the conception of numerous unplanned babies, among other things. It was entirely possible that he’d hundreds, maybe even thousands of kids he didn’t know about in addition to the two he was supposed to have with his ex-wife.

Overwhelmed, the bassist merely took the bags of clothing to the bedroom he’d woken up in, where she’d already taken the bags she’d been holding while she was talking. He just wanted to take a shot–or fifteen–go back to bed, and wake up back 1987 Los Angeles, or wherever he’d passed out at. Nothing was making any sense to him, and it was starting to give him a really and truly nasty headache.

Aerin helped him put up their purchases, and he was surprised by how lil clothing and how few pairs of shoes she owned for herself. She told him as they headed back out to the living room that she wasn’t like most girls, that she honestly hated shopping, doing her hair and makeup, and most other things considered girlie. She didn’t even really like painting her nails, and the few Times she actually did, they were always solid black with maybe a protective top coat. Other than that, people often said that hanging out with her was more like hanging out with one of the guys and having a few beers till sex was involved.

Just the Thought of sex made him blush, ’cuz at the moment, he couldn’t see him doing such a thing with anyone but her. Not only was he highly attracted to the younger woman, but she was the only one he’d say he was even remotely close to right now. Even her mother–whom she introduced as Kat–didn’t really appeal to him, but then again, he wasn’t much into older women. He usually preferred girls around his own age, maybe a couple Years younger, although he couldn’t possibly say why he’d that preference for the Life of him.

“So, you’re only twenty-three right now?” Kat asked curiously.

“Well, that’s how old I was when I passed out after that show,” he sighed. “Sick as a Dog, too, so I’m a bit surprised I stayed the same age, honestly.”

“Yeah, I noticed ya don’t seem to be anywhere near close to Death’s door like I’d always read,” the older woman agreed. “Certainly not in bad enough shape to be taken to a hospital, for sure.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned so much shit today, my head’s spinning like I’ve had too much booze,” Bobby chuckled.

“I’m not surprised,” her daughter spoke up. “Ya Time Traveled nearly twenty-nine Years into the Future literally overnight–I’d be surprised if ya _weren’t_ overwhelmed right now.”

“So, what’re we gonna do with him for the Time being?” Kat asked.

“I’m honestly not too sure,” she answered, biting her lip in a way that kinda turned him on. “I mean, I doubt he can get a job unless it’s under the table–folks’re bound to think he’s committing identity theft, if we let him use his actual ID and whatnot.”

“Not that that ID would even be valid now,” her mother said.

“Yeah, that’s definitely true–that thing’d be long since expired here in 2016, and I doubt it’d be acceptable to apply for a new, North Carolina ID,” Aerin agreed.

“So, I’m basically stuck working under-the-table, ’cuz people’d say I’ma fraud?” he asked.

“Trust me, identity theft’s a huge thing in 2016,” she told him. “People get their identities stolen all the Time ’cuz of people getting their hands on driver’s license and social security numbers, among other things. It’s a bitch and highly expensive to have their names and records cleared when that happens, and most people wind up having to file bankruptcy ’cuz of it.”

Bobby couldn’t help a wince at the mere Thought of that.

“And if someone’s caught committing identity theft, they can pull some serious jail Time for it,” the younger woman continued.

“I’d really hate to see ya wind up in my jail,” Kat told him. “Ya wouldn’t get any special favors outta me, if ya did.”

“Huh–what’s that supposed to mean?” the bassist asked.

“I work for one of the local county jails,” she laughed. “If ya wound up getting arrested and tossed in the one I work at, I’d act like ya were any other inmate–and it wouldn’t be pretty, depending on how much trouble ya gave me and my coworkers.”

“Yikes,” he winced. “Note to Self–don’t do anything stupid to get arrested when I can’t even prove who I am.”

The younger woman joined her mother’s laughter, assuring him that she wasn’t gonna give him half a chance to do anything to that degree of stupid. She was essentially taking him on as a dependent while he was stuck here, even though she obviously couldn’t take legal custody of him. Not only was he unable to prove who he really was, but he wasn’t a minor or off his rocker enough to take legal custody of him. Well, he kinda _was_ off his rocker–all rock stars were to a certain extent, after all–but she meant a totally different kinda off his rocker.

It wasn’t long before the two women started wanting food, and Kat decided on a pot of her homemade linguine. Bobby couldn’t help licking his chops at the Thought, his stomach grumbling since he hadn’t had much to eat since he wasn’t all that hungry much of the Day. He generally loved Italian fare, and having it homemade versus outta a box was always a plus in his book.

While the older woman was working on dinner–which just made him drool once the scents started wafting around the house–Aerin decided to go grab a shower. The bassist wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself as she closed and locked the bathroom door, so he decided to head back to the bedroom he supposed he oughta call theirs. He finally noticed the guitars–not to mention the bass–that were sitting on stands in the corner under the framed records hanging on the wall and couldn’t help himself.

Sitting in the fold-out chair that was in front of the lil desk next to what he’d call the _Music corner,_ he gently grabbed the bass by its neck. He wasn’t too fond of Schecters, compared to his Love of BC Riches, but he’d to admit that even a Schecter didn’t sound half-bad. It was the evil skulls all over the strap attached to it that made him give it a good look over, and he smiled at seeing the hint of red in the bass’ body. No Wonder she’d chosen this strap–it kinda went with the Dark, evil look he supposed the instrument, itself had due to its paint job. But Bobby couldn’t for the Life of him figure out if that was a Reflection of her personality, or bought just ’cuz she thought it was cool.

_“Mrow.”_

Startled, he was glad his grab reflex kicked in, or he’d have dropped the instrument he held. “What the–well, hello there.”

_“Mrow.”_ The Cat that’d somehow gotten through the hinged gate in her doorway rubbed against his leg.

“You’re the Beauty that scared me this Morn,” the bassist chuckled, reaching down to pet it.

The Cat–which looked Siamese to him–took a swipe at his hand, and he jerked it back.

“All right, fine–I won’t make that mistake twice,” Bobby chuckled.

“It’s not that he doesn’t wantcha to pet him, the Crafty lil devil.”

Looking up, he saw Aerin in the doorway, her hair a mess from where she hadn’t yet brushed it after her shower.

“Apollo, ya lil shit–what’ve I told ya about coming in my room?” she asked, hands on her hips as she looked down at the Cat.

_“Mrow!”_ The Cat bounded over to her and started twining around her ankles.

“Ya know you’re not supposed to be in here, Familiar or no,” the young woman said, still talking to the Cat. “This is _my_ Sacred Space, not yours.”

“He says, _I don’t care_ – _I wanted to come in here!”_ Kat laughed from the kitchen.

“Well, too bad,” Aerin laughed in response. “He doesn’t need to be in here giving my sinuses any more reasons to clog up!”

The bassist couldn’t help a chuckle, thinking it was ridiculous to be talking as if they could actually Communicate with the adorable lil devil.

“Besides, I’d bet my left lady nut that he almost made Bobby drop my bass,” she said.

“You’re actually letting him touch it?” Her mother sounded downright shocked.

“I’m not _letting_ him do anything–he just grabbed it while I was in the shower,” the younger woman chuckled.

“Sorry, I didn’t know ya didn’t want others messing with it,” he said, wincing slightly as he made to put it back on its stand.

“As long as ya treat it with the reverence and Respect it deserves, I don’t care,” Aerin told him. “I just prefer that others don’t touch it without asking–and me knowing them pretty well–’cuz it’s one of the last things my grandfather bought me before his Death a couple Years ago.”

“Yikes, now I’m really sorry,” Bobby said. “I wouldn’t want anyone else touching my gear under circumstances like that, either.”

The young woman simply patted his shoulder as she laughed softly, telling him that she could forgive the transgression this Time since he hadn’t known. Now that he did, she didn’t care if he played her instruments, as long as he did as she asked and showed them the reverence and Respect they deserved. If there was anything on the Planet she’d quite literally prostitute herself for, it’d be those instruments and having the means to keep possession of them.

It wasn’t long afterward that Kat was calling them outta her room for dinner, and he couldn’t help the slight feeling of being back home. By _back home,_ he meant in his childhood home–whether that was in Miami, Florida or Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania was up for debate–his mother calling him and his siblings down for dinner.

Bobby was amazed by how good the linguine was, and he couldn’t help but go back for seconds any more than his ally could. Even though he was already stuffed by the Time he killed off his first plate, Garlic bread and all, it was too delicious not to go back for more. He’d a feeling he’d regret that once he killed off this second plate, or at least by Morn when he’d to shit so bad, he’d a killer stomachache. But for the moment, he was content to stuff himself absolutely stupid, considering that he didn’t get a chance to eat like he should on the road. What with being a starving artist on top of it, it was no Wonder he’d Chicken legs and one could count his ribs on a good Day.

Once dinner’d been eaten and the dishes washed, the bassist decided he was finally ready for a shower. He was feeling extremely grimy, having woken up in his typical post-concert state, just in a different Time and place than he shoulda. Aerin was also ready to head of to bed, saying that she’d to get up _über_ -early for work the next Morn since she worked as a retail stocker. Thankfully, he slept like the Dead, so as long as she didn’t have to crawl over him, she wasn’t likely to wake him before Dawn when she got up.

The hot Water beating down on him felt absolutely Divine, but a part of him couldn’t help but sigh as he reveled in it. He wanted so desperately to go back to 1987 where he belonged, but at the same Time, there was a part of him that never wanted to leave the young woman’s side. She was so sweet and caring, despite how she seemed at first glance, unlike any other woman he’d ever met.

Careful not to wake her since she was already asleep by the Time he was done showering, Bobby slipped into bed from the side she’d warned him not to crawl out on that Morn. It was a bit tricky, given that there wasn’t very much room between the bed and the wall, but she’d have an easier Time of getting up when her alarm went off. He was quick to settle down, despite how the pillows were piled up, and sighed softly as he wrapped an arm around her, more content than he’d been in a long Time.


	4. Four

The next couple months passed back like Time was flying by, yet dragging like a dead Elephant behind a single human at the same Time. Bobby’d settled into a routine of helping with household chores since he obviously couldn’t get a job, but he hated it. He felt like such a worthless knot on a log, even when he was exhausted and sore as all hell from a Day of cleaning the house top to bottom. It didn’t seem fair to him that Kat and Aerin were busting their asses at work at least four Days a week, and he couldn’t do anything to help them financially.

He was also depressed after using something the latter called a computer to log on to what she called the Internet. She’d taught him how to use something called Google to look up just about anything he wanted to similar to using a dictionary or encyclopedia back in 1987. The difference was that the Internet could help him find a lot more things in tons of different languages, even ones he didn’t speak.

What he’d wanted to know more about was Poison’s history after his supposed disappearance and their hire of this Richie Kotzen. He’d wanted to know more about the work they’d done on that sophomore album, not to mention the ones that followed, that he shoulda been featured on. Unfortunately, what he’d found out just made him curl up in bed and cry himself to sleep for a nap, ’cuz he knew how those three blondes really were.

It didn’t matter to him that they swore they’d never given up Hope that he’d just magickally Return as suddenly as he’d disappeared. Part of him somewhere deep inside knew that, after four Years and two albums with no sign of him, they’d given up Hope. They no doubt thought he was dead, just a skeleton buried in a shallow grave somewhere that nobody’d ever find by now. As far as the public was concerned, they were still looking for him between tours–which were few and far between now–but he knew better. Once Bret, Rikki, and CC finally got discouraged enough to call it quits on something, they’d shove it to the backs of their minds and never think about it again.

“Bobby, you and I both know that’s not true,” Aerin told him one afternoon. She’d come home from work and caught a nap since she was tired and he’d still been asleep.

“I know them–or at least, who they used to be–better than ya think I do,” he argued, sniffling as he viciously wiped away another tear. “They mighta held out Hope for the first Year, even two, but by the Time _Flesh and Blood_ got released, they’d given up.”

“And just howddaya know that for sure?” the young woman asked. “Have ya been able to get in their heads at Night with that Astral projection I taughtcha how to do?”

“Well, no,” Bobby admitted, flushing slightly. “But I’m telling ya, I know how they are–they mighta held out Hope for a while, but after a certain point, they no doubt started thinking I was dead. Once they started thinking like that, they’d have pushed all Thoughts of me to the backs of their minds and forgotten about me.”

“I just about guarantee you’re always on their minds,” she said.

“And howddaya know that?” the bassist asked, shooting her a suspicious look.

Ignoring his question, Aerin moved to sit in front of her laptop, where she quickly made a few clicks and typed something. Moments later, she grabbed the device she called a cell phone and started tapping on the screen, her eyes flicking back and forth between it and that of her laptop. After that, she tapped something else, and he clearly heard the ringing of an outgoing call, but he couldn’t imagine who she’d have been calling.

The bassist was surprised to hear a woman answer and identify herself as the secretary of a record label, his eyes widening as he listened. His ally–whom was actually now his girlfriend–told the woman she was looking for contact information on the band Poison, who was signed to them. She made it clear that she understood if she could only be put in touch with their manager, but still needed to talk to somebody from that lil social Circle. The woman she was talking to asked her to hold on a sec, and she waited patiently as a keyboard clacking could be heard in the background.

Bobby was even more surprised when the secretary gave her a phone number she could call and told her it’d likely be answered by the band’s manager. If any of the actual band members answered it themselves, she’d be surprised since they were supposed to be busy planning a Summer tour. The young woman thanked her after writing it down, then Ended the call and turned to look straight at him.

“Now, if what I’m about to do doesn’t prove how wrong ya are to ya, then I can’t help ya on that front,” she told him.

“Whaddaya mean by that?” the bassist asked, looking confused.

“Just shut up and listen, hon,” Aerin insisted, tapping on her phone’s screen again.

_“This is Rikki Rockett_ – _how can I help ya?”_ they heard a few moments later, the words preceded by just three rings.

“Hi, my name’s Aerin Byrne,” the young woman told him. “If you’ve got a few minutes, I’ve got a couple questions I wanted to ask any of the members of Poison.”

_“I haven’t got long, sugar,”_ Rikki responded. _“We’re just taking a break from what we were working on.”_

“Yeah, planning a Summer tour, I know,” she chuckled. “The secretary of your record label told me when I called there first, before ya ask.”

_“All right_ – _well, go ahead and shoot,”_ the drummer told her. _“You’re on speaker, by the way, so Bret, CC, and Duff can hear ya, too.”_

“Well, my main question is to prove something to one of my friends,” Aerin said. “They seem to think ya guys’ve totally forgotten about Bobby, and I can’t seem to get through their thick skull, so I was kinda curious–do ya guys just put on that front for the public, or have ya really forgotten about him?”

There was a few moments of Silence before another voice he recognized all too well spoke up.

_“We’ve never forgotten about Bobby,”_ Bret said, and while there was a bit of a growl to his voice, he sounded kinda choked-up.

_“We just can’t think about him twenty-four-seven, or we’d drive ourselves insane with all the_ what-ifs,” CC agreed.

_“I wasn’t even a part of the band at the Time_ – _I was with GN’R_ – _and I still think about Bobby all the Time,”_ a fourth voice he didn’t recognize added.

_“After twenty-nine Years, though, we’re pretty sure he’s dead,”_ Rikki sighed. _“We’ve exhausted every lead we’ve ever gotten, and there’s no trace of him. If he were to walk up and slap us in the face right now, we’d prolly think we’d finally lost our minds and needed to be committed.”_

_“Best we can do in that case is to pray that he’s resting in Peace, if he_ is _dead,”_ the frontman told her. _“I mean, what else_ can _we do when he disappeared from that hospital, and no one’s seen or heard from him since?”_

“That’s kinda what I thought–thatcha hadn’t given up Hope you’d find him one Day, but still knew there was a possibility that wouldn’t happen,” Aerin told them. “My friend just couldn’t seem to get that through their thick skull, ’cuz apparently some of your comments in interviews seemed like ya really had given up Hope.”

All four of the men she was on the phone with vehemently denied having ever given up Hope on finding him, even if they seemed dejected about it ever happening after so many Years. Dead or alive, Bobby was their friend–their brother–and they were determined to find out what’d happened to him back in 1987, or die trying. If they wound up dying trying to find those answers, they hoped they’d see him on the other side and finally get them there, but they’d still rather get them before they’d to meet again in the Afterlife.

The young woman traded phone numbers with them, telling them they could call her just about any Time during the next couple Days, if they wanted to talk more when they weren’t busy. After all, whether they were planning another tour–despite now being in their fifties–or recording another album, she recognized that they were busy guys.

Bobby couldn’t help a sniffle after she Ended that second phone call, a slight smile curving his lips at hearing their opinions from their own mouths. Maybe he’d jumped to conclusions and thought things about them that he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help it. In some of those interviews, they’d sounded like they hadn’t ever cared about him, and had only searched for him in the Beginning ’cuz they felt obligated to look like they were good guys in the spotlight.

Knowing that hearing their opinions for himself’d helped him, she chuckled as she climbed up on the bed next to him. That was exactly what she’d wanted when she’d looked up their record label’s phone number, and she’d wound up getting so much more. Not only had she apparently made a few new friends in the members of one of her favorite bands, but she’d managed to help her boyfriend, too. Now she just had to figure out how to get him to realize why he’d teleported and Time Traveled, which might be the key to sending him back to when and where he belonged. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t send him back without a choice in the matter unless that was truly what he wanted for himself.

Later that Night, Aerin was snuggled up to the bassist’s side, her head resting on his chest as they watched TV in her room. She’d gotten him addicted to a show called _Siren,_ even though he professed to hate just about anything Fantasy and to be about as old-fashioned as they came when it came to Romantic relationships. Every Time even a rerun came on, he wanted to watch it, especially if she wasn’t at work and could watch it with him.

When her phone started ringing on the bed beside her, Bobby groaned in annoyance as she paused their show to see who was calling. She couldn’t help a laugh at how his eyes widened when they both looked down to see Rikki’s name and picture on the screen, which made her decide to answer the call. Even if they were both tired, she was curious as to why the drummer was calling at what woulda been nearly ten o’ clock at Night on the West Coast. Maybe that was just the only free Time he’d gotten today, or maybe it was something else.

“Hey, Rikki,” she said as she put her phone on speaker. “I’m kinda surprised to hear from ya this late.”

_“Sorry_ – _I forgot about the Time difference,”_ the drummer chuckled. _“I’m used to just about everyone I talk to running on Pacific Time.”_

“Don’t worry about it,” Aerin laughed. “I’m usually up pretty late, even though I’ve to get up at the crack of Dawn for work on the Days I’m scheduled.”

_“Total insomniac?”_ he asked, and they could hear the smile on his face.

“Eh, that and I’ve a boyfriend who doesn’t like letting me sleep,” the young woman snickered.

Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes, even though he knew it was true.

_“Sounds like the boyfriend’s not really liking that statement,”_ Rikki laughed.

“Not really, but he knows I speak the Truth,” she told him. “I’m generally brutally honest, so he knows that I usually ain’t gonna say something that ain’t true to some extent.”

_“Well, maybe that’ll be a good thing, now that I’ve gotcha where we can talk one-on-one,”_ the drummer said.

“Whatcha wanna talk about?” Aerin asked, feigning stupidity, even though she already had an idea.

_“Bobby,”_ he answered. _“’Cuz I get the feeling there’s more to why ya called us earlier, and ya were choosing your words carefully to avoid getting called crazy.”_

The young woman didn’t bother trying to deny his allegation since it was true–she really hadn’t wanted to seem crazy by blurting out something like actually knowing where Bobby was. That really got Rikki’s attention, and he couldn’t help asking what she meant, not to mention what she’d been alluding to earlier that afternoon–or rather Eve, for her.

As he listened Intently, she told him to think hypothetically at first, mostly just to gauge his reaction to what she’d to tell him. The drummer agreed and said he was ready, and she took a deep breath before saying anything else to him. She asked him what he’d think, if he ever got a phone call from someone who claimed to know where his friend was and how he was doing. It took a moment, but when he finally responded, he said that he’d honestly think the person was lying till they offered up some kinda proof.

Sad though it was to say, the band had gotten all kindsa phone calls like that over the Years, telling them everything from the bassist’d been spotted in Downtown Los Angeles to the person knew where his Hidden grave was. They’d learned a long Time ago not to simply trust someone saying something like that, as many Times as such calls’d turned out to be a hoax. It was nothing against her personally, but they’d to be cautious with getting their Hopes up too high over such a thing.

Hearing those words cut Bobby to the core just as much as he suspected a knife straight into his heart would. Part of him wanted to burst into sobs at knowing somebody’d mislead his friends like that, let them think they knew where he was when they really didn’t. Part of him couldn’t believe some folks’d really let them think he was actually dead, even though they obviously wouldn’t have known that for sure. It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to bite back his tears at trying to imagine his friends going through nearly thirty Years of that torture. And not just going through it once, but over and over again, every Time they picked up the phone thinking it was just another business call.

_“I’m kinda curious why you’d wanna know that, though,”_ Rikki said, sounding both exhausted and suspicious.

“Well, what would ya say if I told ya I knew where Bobby was, and I could give ya that proof?” the young woman asked.

_“I’d still think ya were nuts and pulling another prank,”_ he answered matter-of-factly. _“’Cuz let’s face it_ – _I dunno how you’d gimme that proof.”_

“By doing something that’d no doubt make ya have to check your drawers for skid marks,” Aerin said, a bit of a mischievous laugh coloring her voice.

_“Oh_ – _and just what could ya do that’d make me do that?”_ the drummer chuckled.

She didn’t bother answering him, but rather jabbed her boyfriend in the ribs when he least expected it.

“Ow–son of a bitch, baby!” the bassist yelped. “What the hell was that for?”

_“What the_ – _Bobby?”_ Rikki really did sound like he was in need of checking his drawers for skid marks.

“Oh, now I get it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Har dee har har, sweetheart–that seriously fuckin’ hurt.”

_“Holy fuck_ – _I gotta be Dreaming or something,”_ his friend said, bringing their attention back to the phone call they were having.

“No, you’re not Dreaming, Rikki,” Aerin laughed. “No more than I was when I suddenly woke up with him in my bed a couple months ago.”

_“Wait, what?”_ he asked, now sounding confused. _“Whaddaya mean?”_

Biting her lip, the young woman took a few moments to gather her Thoughts and figure out exactly how she wanted to put this. She finally took a deep breath and told him that he’d prolly be better off flying out to North Carolina so he could prove to himself that she wasn’t lying, but some strange shit’d happened.

The bassist couldn’t help holding his breath–figuratively and literally–as he listened to her explain what’d happened. Rikki was dead Silent the whole Time, and if it weren’t for the soft breathing they could still hear from the other End of the line as she concluded, they’d have thought he’d hung up on them. It was certainly a far-fetched tale, one that’d be bound to make anyone think she was outta her ever-living mind, but it was the Truth. And as the old adage’d gone for decades, the Truth was often stranger than fiction could ever possibly be.

Finally, the drummer took a deep breath and told her that he’d definitely be flying out to North Carolina soon. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe her words, even though he’d already heard his presumed-dead friend’s voice for the first Time in nearly three decades over the phone. Besides, he knew that he coulda just heard the voice of someone who sounded eerily similar to Bobby and was just helping her with a hoax, that she could alter any pictures she sent him supposedly of the bassist.

Much to the drummer’s surprise, Aerin gladly invited him to come see for himself that she wasn’t kidding about having a twenty-three-Year-old Bobby Dall with her. She admitted that she knew her story sounded far-fetched, even to her own ears, but she hadn’t been lying about being brutally honest. She just hadn’t wanted to shock him like this earlier, to the point that he was too shocked to drive himself home safely, and she didn’t wanna get called a nut-job by the rest of the guys, either. Luckily, the drummer was sympathetic about that, but still skeptical about her claim. Still, they knew it wouldn’t be long now before he made his way out East so he could see what’d happened with his own two eyes.


	5. Five

Rikki hadn’t been entirely sure of what he was getting into when he’d told the young woman–Aerin, she’d said her name was–he’d fly out to North Carolina. He still wasn’t completely sure, but like he’d told his wife before bidding her, their son, and their daughter goodbye, he felt this was something he _had_ to do. Time could very well be running out for him, and if he didn’t go investigate what could be the only lead on Bobby that actually panned out, it might very well be too late.

Despite being exhausted from having to get up really early to catch his flight on top of his recent medical crisis, he managed to navigate through the airport he landed at in Greensboro. The drummer’d called Aerin the Night before to give her the flight information so she could pick him up, but he wasn’t quite sure what she looked like.

Seeing a petite young woman holding up a sign with his name on it once he got outside told him exactly who she was, though. In all Honesty, he’d totally say she was his friend’s type, ’cuz the bassist almost always seemed to gravitate toward the petite, Dark-toned girls that looked relatively exotic. Well, that’s what he’d gone after when he wasn’t busy trying to piss Bret off back in 1987, but that’d been a long Time ago. Whether this Time Travel business was true or not, his preferences coulda very well Changed–and drastically–in the ensuing twenty-nine Years.

“Hey there, Rikki,” the young woman said once she’d spotted him and he’d gotten close enough to hear. “Lemme help ya with those, and don’t argue with me.”

“I think you’ve the roles reversed,” Rikki chuckled, although he was thankful for the help since he was a bit more winded than he’d thought he’d be.

“Go on up to the front and hop in,” she told him. “I can handle getting your bags in while you’re catching your breath. What I _can’t_ handle is having to give ya CPR and explain to Bobby why _you’re_ in the hospital with a cracked Coconut, let alone anyone on the West Coast who’d need to know.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” the drummer agreed. “I don’t think Jude and Lucy need to be coming out here ’cuz Daddy almost keeled–and not from what they already knew about.”

Aerin quite literally bit her tongue as she loaded up his couple bags, then slammed the hatch and joined him up front. “Whaddaya mean, almost keeled–and from something they already knew about?”

“Well, there’s more reason why I wanted to come and do this than what I said on the phone,” he sighed. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at her, and those greenish-blue eyes were tortured, to say the least. “Aerin, I got diagnosed with throat cancer back in December.”

“Wait a minute, what?” the young woman asked, shocked and horrified.

“Doc said I’d caught HPV–likely Years, if not decades ago–and that it was one of those strains that caused various forms of cancer,” Rikki explained. “I’ve been going through various treatments–which’s why I’m so winded–’cuz I’m not ready to die, but I know it might not work.”

“So, what’s your prognosis as of right now? Like, this Morn when ya left, right now?” she asked curiously.

“Doc says the tumor under my tongue’s shrinking, and seems to be doing so faster than he’d thought,” the drummer answered. “He told me at first that I might very well lose my tongue at best, my Life at worst, but he doesn’t seem to think I’ll lose either one.”

“Well, that’s always a good thing,” Aerin told him.

“Yeah, butcha know how cancer is–there’s always a chance it could come back in the Future,” he said. “And if I’m that one person it comes back for, I wanna see Bobby for myself one last Time before it does.”

Without taking her eyes off the road, considering she’d been headed back toward Burlington the whole Time they were talking, the young woman reached over and squeezed his hand. Rikki was a bit surprised by the Energy he felt from just that gentle touch, which was far more than just a Comforting squeeze like he was used to with most people. This felt like he was a battery and she the charger, feeding him a current of raw Energy to recharge and restore himself with.

The young woman soon gently broke the Energetic connection, although he didn’t even realize she’d opened one in the first place. She couldn’t let him feed off her forever, especially when she already used her Energy to keep Bobby safe and sane a lot. If she were to do that, the pair of men’d eventually drain her Life Force, even though they obviously wouldn’t mean to.

It wasn’t long afterward that Aerin was headed not quite through Downtown Burlington, but pretty close to it as she aimed her truck for home. She’d left the bassist abed since it’d been pretty early when she got up to go pick up his friend, but he might be up by now. He coulda needed a bathroom trip, or even the Dogs coulda woken him up since their nails on the hardwood were like bombs going off when the house was dead Silent. If he wasn’t already awake, she hoped they wouldn’t wake him by getting the drummer’s bags inside, although now she’d a decision to make. Should she put Rikki in their room downstairs to keep him from getting hurt, or make him sleep in the guest room upstairs, after all?

As they walked through the side door that was closest to the driveway–after she’d helped him up the few stairs, of course–she could hear Bobby on the other side of the house. Judging by his softly-growled _C’mon here, bastards,_ followed by the other side door opening and closing, she could tell he was taking said Dogs out to the back yard. She couldn’t help a sigh as she told the drummer to just put his bags down, that they’d deal with them in a lil bit, ’cuz she’d a feeling she’d a mess to clean up in the kitchen before she could do anything else.

“Whaddaya mean, you’ve likely got a mess to clean up?” he asked curiously.

“From the sound of it, Bobby was taking the Dogs out,” the young woman answered. “And either he was just in a bad mood from just waking up, or he walked through a puddle of piss again.”

“Yikes,” Rikki winced. “Yeah, I can see where that’d make just about anybody growl first thing in the Morn.”

“Yeah, and if there’s a puddle in the kitchen floor again, it needsta be cleaned up before it gets tracked all over the house,” she sighed. “These’re the original hardwood floors that were put in this house when it was built in the forties. My mom’s batshit over keeping them as close to pristine as possible, and she’s already not too happy about the furniture gouging them in a few places.”

“Best to do whatcha can to keep them from being damaged any worse, then,” the drummer agreed.

“Exactly, and Bobby knows what I’d have done, had I come home to find a puddle and the Dogs still in the house,” Aerin chuckled.

Confused, he just cocked a brow at her as she started throwing paper towels on the floor to soak up the puddle she found just where she thought it’d be. She couldn’t help laughing as she told him that she wasn’t a Dog person, so she tended to be harsher with punishments than she meant to be, and prolly woulda given whichever one’d pissed in the floor a few too many licks with a belt for it. They hadn’t acted this way before they’d moved into this house the previous Summer, and why they still were nearly a Year later was a total Mystery to her and her mother both.

As she was gathering up the piss-soaked paper towels, the Storm door could be heard opening before the main door did. Rikki couldn’t help the Awed and slightly disbelieving look on his face as he saw a face he hadn’t seen in nearly twenty-nine Years that hadn’t Changed a single iota. The bassist still looked every bit as young and gorgeous as he looked on the cover of their debut album, even though he shoulda been in his fifties.

When Bobby turned from hanging up the leashes so he could close the door, he was both surprised and not to see a vaguely familiar face in the kitchen doorway. He’d known the guys woulda aged in the twenty-nine Years he’d supposedly been missing, but he honestly thought the drummer looked worse for wear than he shoulda. Still, he couldn’t help the desire to wanna hug him, even though he didn’t make the first move for Fear of being rejected by his old friend. Thankfully, he seemed to sense that and took a couple steps closer to him, easily closing the distance so he could wrap his arms around him like a parent hugging a lost child Returned to them at customer service.

“I’ve the proof right here in front of me, and I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” he said, his words a bit muffled from his face being buried in those wavy brown tresses.

“Well, ya better believe it, man,” the bassist chuckled. “Pretty sure I’m not dead like you’ve no doubt thought a few Times.”

“I still don’t get how this coulda happened,” Rikki said, hiding his weakness from his friend as they headed for the living room. “I mean, ya were sick as a Dog that Night–passed out and nearly head-butted the medic tending to ya, and got taken to the nearest hospital, then ya just turn up here.”

“Yeah, it freaked me out at first, too,” he agreed. “I mean, I woke up in a bed and thought I was at home, only to realize I wasn’t at home, nor was I alone.”

“Bet that was quite the surprise,” he chuckled, settling on the couch.

“No shit–I was way warmer than what I shoulda been, but at least I’d boobs pressing against my back, not a boner against my ass,” Bobby laughed.

“Still, it feels like it’s been a Lifetime since ya disappeared,” the drummer said. “Oh, wait–it kinda _has_ been a Lifetime, when ya think about it.”

“Yeah, twenty-nine Years is a long Time,” he agreed. “Which feels weird to say since I don’t feel any different than I did at that last show–well, aside from not being sick as a Dog, that is.”

Aerin was content to let the pair catch up while she was working on lunch, knowing they’d a lotta ground to cover and precious lil Time to do it in. Even if Rikki’s cancer diagnosis didn’t potentially get in the way of them doing that and essentially picking up where they’d left off, the drummer’d a family to get back home to eventually. Besides, the bassist could very well up and Time Travel to yet another decade or something, and they might never find him again, if that happened.

To say Bobby was shocked as he got filled in on everything that’d happened in the twenty-nine Years since he’d supposedly disappeared would be an understatement. He was barely able to believe that they’d not only hired Richie Kotzen, but parted ways with him ’cuz he was so advanced for being nearly a decade younger that he practically played his bass like a lead guitar. Finding out that they’d fired CC not long before then due to his coke addiction was a bit of a surprise, but one he’d easily seen coming when they’d first chosen him as their lead guitarist. To hear that Bret was basically his same old narcissistic self who took too many chances with his diabetes wasn’t that big a shock, though.

He was definitely surprised when his friend told him that, upon Richie quitting, they’d chosen Guns n’ Roses bassist Duff McKagan ’cuz of some turmoil going on within the latter band. They’d just come off their grueling _Use Your Illusion_ tour when Poison started working on another album, and the fourth blonde to join them’d wanted something else to do with his Time. They hadn’t been expecting to get a call informing them that he’d wound up in the hospital on Death’s door, his pancreas having somewhat literally exploded after Years of heavy drinking.

It was at that point that Duff and the rest of his new band had decided to go clean, although Duff was the only one who’d any long-term Success with that. He’d learned his lesson the hard way from nearly losing his Life, but the others seemed as hard-headed and stubborn as ever. Even Bret totaling his car and damn near dying in that incident in May of ’94 hadn’t taught the frontman much of a lesson.

“Sounds like ya guys’ve had one helluva ride since 1987,” Bobby said with a sigh. “And what I wouldn’t give to’ve been there for it.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it,” the drummer told him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a gentle squeeze. “Ya know ya didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Yeah, but it’s still my fault that this happened,” he shot back, even as he Returned the side-hug.

“Whaddaya mean by that?” Rikki asked curiously, gently pulling away enough to look him in the eye.

“Remember that last real conversation we had before that closing show of ’87?” the bassist countered smoothly.

“Yeah, I remember it,” he answered. “Maybe not word for word, but I told ya that you’d your own lil sect of fans that really did care aboutcha, even if there was another that was all for slobbering over Bret, or even me or CC.”

“Me starting that conversation, saying that it felt like I wasn’t loved, needed, or appreciated by the fans–that’s why I suddenly catapulted through Time,” Bobby told him.

“Wait, what?” the drummer asked, completely flabbergasted.

“He’s most likely right, Rikki.”

Looking up, the blonde saw the young woman who’d been helping and taking care of his friend for the last couple months. “Whaddaya mean, Aerin?”

“I mean that we all know the Universe works in Mysterious ways, and it can often feed off us just as much as _we_ feed off _it,”_ she answered.

“Believe me, one of the things she said to me on the Morn I first woke up in her bed was pretty shocking, but it made sense in a weird sorta way,” the bassist chuckled.

“I told him that I know that some things which seem like a Fantasy’re entirely possible,” Aerin explained when he looked curiously confused. “After all, there’s an Infinite number of Worlds, and what’s Fantasy in this one must be Truth in another–so maybe something’s not as much a Fantasy as it first seems.”

“So, you’re saying that the Universe as we know it might just be one variation, but still just as true as another?” Rikki asked.

“Exactly,” the young woman answered with a nod. “Bobby’s sudden teleportation and Time Travel after he passed out backstage could be the Universe’s way of trying to show him what the World would be like, if he weren’t in it.”

“Sounds like the Ghost of Christmas Past and Scrooge to me,” Rikki laughed.

“Yeah, it kinda is, but hey, I don’t really have a better way of explaining it,” she agreed. “If you’ve got something better, I’m all ears–and I’m sure Bobby is, too.”

The drummer’d to admit that he couldn’t think of any better explanation than what she’d already come up with as he shook his head. Then again, he was exhausted from his flight and the cancer treatments he still had yet to tell his brunette friend about. Bobby shot him a look, wondering what was wrong with him since he was sure that aging wouldn’t have made him Change quite this drastically.

He promised they’d talk more later on, but he wanted to go grab a quick nap before he wound up falling asleep on him like a lover. The bassist made a face of clear disgust, telling him that the only one allowed to fall asleep on him–especially with their head in his lap–was Aerin. He might be living in one of possibly thousands of alternate Realities right now, but he was still straight as a stripper pole, and some things were just too weird for even him to tolerate. Besides, he’d asked the young woman out as his steady girlfriend for a few different reasons, and that just seemed even weirder.

Since they weren’t gonna be using it till that Night, the young couple let him take their bed for the Time being since just a trip to the bathroom caused him to get winded. Bobby was disturbed by his friend’s shortness of breath, considering he was a drummer who professed to be into martial Arts, too. What prolly disturbed him even more was that his girlfriend seemed to already know what was wrong with him, but refused to tell.

Aerin wouldn’t spill the Beans to her boyfriend ’cuz she knew it wasn’t her story to tell, and that he’d likely take it better from his friend, anywhore. The only way she’d tell the story for the drummer was if he allowed her to, whether he was too winded to talk or not. Naturally, the bassist was a bit upset at her refusal to tell him since she was always honest, but he’d to admire her Respect for his friend. It showed that she’d a good character not easily found in 2016, so even if her refusal irked him, at least he knew she wasn’t doing it with any ill Intent. He may not like having to, but he could wait till Rikki felt up to it and find out from the drummer later on that Eve after his nap.


	6. Six

Just as he’d promised earlier that afternoon, Rikki took his friend outside to explain what was happening to him after his nap. They made use of the lil patio area in the back yard, Aerin and her mother choosing to stay in the house with the Animals. Shooting a slight smile in his Direction, she’d assured the drummer that she could always tell when her boyfriend was too upset, so she’d know if she was needed to help Calm him down again. Nodding, he was unsure of her words since he didn’t yet know she was a Witch, but still headed off with his brunette friend.

Bobby was horrified to find out about his friend’s cancer diagnosis, having never thought any such thing’d happen to any of them. Even though it shocked and horrified him to no End, he was just as relieved to hear that his treatments were apparently working. Things could be far worse, such as the tumor under his tongue continuing to grow till it blocked his airway or something, rather than shrink.

“Trust me, I was just as shocked to find out,” the drummer chuckled. “I mean, I went to the doctor thinking I’d caught a cold or strep throat.”

“Yeah, to go in for something so benign and come home with a cancer diagnosis’d prolly put just about anybody on their ass,” he agreed. “And I don’t mean ’cuz of the weakness caused by the treatments, either.”

“I know whatcha mean, dude,” Rikki told him. “The shock, alone kept me abed for about a week as I wrapped my head around it all.”

“I’m not surprised,” the bassist said. “I’d have prolly spent a week in bed, if that’d happened to me, too.”

“The thing that made me get back up and start the treatments, though–it wasn’t just my zest for Life,” his friend told him. “I told ya, a lot’s Changed since ya disappeared.”

“Seems to be true, and I’m sure what you’ve told me already isn’t nearly all of it,” he agreed.

Rikki chuckled as he sipped the drink he’d brought outside with him, glad he was sitting a couple feet away as he lit up a cigarette. While he’d once been a smoker just as much as his band mates, he’d quit a long Time ago, and he didn’t exactly like being around smokers now. He could put up with it, though, when he was in a well-ventilated area, especially since he knew the brunette’s Future could still involve him putting down the pack for good.

After wetting his throat down, he started to explain how all the guys’d wound up starting families, whether Intentionally or completely by accident. Duff was the first to become a daddy when he’d baby Grace in August of 1997, and he wasn’t the only one who was fairly _busy_ during 1999. While he’d his second daughter in July of 2000, Bret’d become a father to his first a couple months earlier in May.

Since then, the frontman’d fathered a second daughter of his own, CC’d a son in 2007, and he’d a son and daughter of his own in 2009 and 2013. Bobby was definitely a bit surprised, but he was also a bit saddened–after all, if he hadn’t Time Traveled, he’d have been the first to become a daddy in December of 1990 when his own son was born. Maybe such a thing’d still happen, even if he didn’t Return to 1987, but he just couldn’t be sure that it actually would. Whether Aerin was his supposed Future childrens’ mother or not, he might be one of those men who never had any children to pass not only his genes, but his legacy on to.

The drummer could easily see how his friend was feeling in those Chocolate eyes, and he reached over to gently cover his hand with his own. He told him that just ’cuz he’d suddenly been catapulted twenty-nine Years into the Future didn’t mean he couldn’t have the same things. Sure, he might not have the fame and fortune of being a rock star in this Reality–then again, it might still very well happen. His Destiny was in his own hands, ’cuz Life was whatever he made it, so he could easily still become a father, even in this strange alternate Reality.

“I know I could still End up being a daddy,” he sighed. “But c’mon–I can’t even prove who I am to anyone else. How could I’ve a baby and be able to write my name on the Birth certificate without getting called an identity thief?”

“What about your Native American blood?” Rikki asked.

“Whaddaya mean?” the bassist countered, confused.

“Isn’t there enough of it in ya to claim ya lived on a reservation your entire Life?” he asked him.

Bobby’s eyes widened as he got where he was going. “Ya know, I think there might be. Rikki, you’re a fuckin’ genius! Why didn’t we think of that before?”

“’Cuz you and Aerin both’ve been so shell-shocked by the teleportation and Time Travel,” the drummer laughed. “Ya were prolly too busy trying to figure out how to getcha back to 1987, if it’s even possible, thatcha didn’t even think of ways to be able to prove your identity in the here and now.”

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement, if I ever heard one,” he told him with a chuckle.

“I mean, it’s worth a shot to try and apply for shit like a social security card and driver’s license by saying you’ve lived on a reservation since ya were born,” Rikki told him. “The worst thing they’ll do is tell ya no, but even if ya End up right back at square one, at leastcha can say ya tried.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” the bassist agreed. “Won’t know without trying, will we?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning. “And from what I recall, while the Cherokee were Primarily up toward the Mountains, there were still plenty of them–and other tribes–in even this area.”

The more Bobby thought about it, the more he couldn’t help wanting to at least try getting a new ID with that as his excuse as to why he didn’t already have one. He was pretty sure that all he’d have to do in that case was prove he could drive, and he’d be able to get a driver’s license relatively easily. Course, that was as long as he wasn’t asked to provide proof that he really had lived on a reservation, ’cuz Aerin’d warned him that it was harder to fake shit like Birth certificates and other legal documents in this Time period.

Since he couldn’t really do much, given that it was after Dark and places like the DMV were long since closed for the Day, he decided he was ready to head back inside. He and his girlfriend had both agreed that it was better to let Rikki take their bedroom so he wouldn’t get hurt trying to get up or down the stairs. That meant they’d be the ones sleeping up in the guest room, but he was perfectly fine with that–he just didn’t want his friend getting hurt, or to find him dead in their bed.

Aerin was already waiting on him upstairs, the guest bed already made and a lamp from her mother’s room brought upstairs since the overhead Light didn’t work. She looked just as tired as he felt, and he couldn’t help wondering if she’d been feeding him from her Energy again as he started to strip down to his boxers. Even though she knew it’d weaken her, if she did it too much, she was forever letting him feed off her during stressful situations. He couldn’t say that it didn’t help with things like Calming him down from near-panic attacks, but he still didn’t like the Thought of her helping him to her own detriment.

The young woman yawned as she assured him that she’d barely let him feed off her while they were outside, that she was just tired from a long Day. Now that he thought about it, Bobby remembered that she’d gotten up around four that Morn to go get the drummer from the airport. He encouraged her to get some rest, sighing contently as he settled down beside her to do the same thing, himself.

Over the course of the next week, the bassist and drummer enjoyed getting to just catch up and spend Time together. They’d been robbed of so much of the latter by the former’s sudden disappearance that they couldn’t resist now. Granted, they both knew that all good things eventually came to an End, and this was just another one of those things that certainly did.

Eventually, Rikki’d to Return to Los Angeles, not only to his family, but to the band he’d devoted his Life to before they even got signed. Part of him didn’t wanna leave without his friend, but another part of him knew taking him back with him prolly wasn’t the best of ideas. Not only did he not wanna jerk him away from the New Life he’d started to make out here in North Carolina with his girlfriend, but too many questions’d get asked, if he did. Too many people’d think he was crazy, even when he showed up with the bassist to prove he was actually alive, and he’d prolly get committed to a nut house.

Heaving a depressed sigh, Bobby gave the blonde a hug before letting him outta the back seat of his girlfriend’s truck. He’d insisted on riding with him and Aerin up to PTI in Greensboro, even though he knew he couldn’t get out so nobody’d see him. The reluctance to let his friend leave when he felt like he’d just gotten him back again was strong, but he knew it was something he’d to do since he couldn’t keep him out East with him forever.

“It’ll be all right, hon,” the young woman said as he somehow managed to scrunch up his long frame enough to climb over the console and into the front seat with her.

“I know, but I can’t help it,” he sighed. “I feel like I just got a part of my Life as I knew it back, and now I’m having to let it go again.”

“Feels like Sand trickling through your fingers, huh?” Aerin asked, grabbing one of his hands after putting the truck in gear.

“Yeah, it kinda does,” the bassist answered, nodding as he laced their fingers together. “Like I’d a firm grip on something for once, and now my hands’re sweaty as hell–or just covered in butter–and everything’s just sliding right outta them to shatter on the floor.”

“I’m not surprised you’re feeling like that,” she told him. “I prolly would be, too, if it were me.”

Bobby simply sighed again as he nodded sadly.

“But hey, look at it this way,” the young woman told him. “Now that he knows without a Shadow of a doubt that you’re still alive, it’s not like y’all can’t call each other from Time to Time.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true enough,” he agreed.

The drive back to what was now his home–and had been for the last couple months–left him pondering plenty of things as he looked out the window. Everything he thought he’d known about Life was up for debate after his teleportation and Time Travel, and it was both daunting and terrifying for him. Maybe he hadn’t really known as much as he thought he had when he was still in the correct Time period, and being faced with Rikki’s cancer diagnosis really made him question things.

Back at their home in Burlington, Aerin couldn’t help worrying about her boyfriend, even though he swore he was fine. She knew better than to believe him, if only by the things she could see in the Chocolate eyes they shared that even her mother couldn’t. He was hurting and more confused than ever, and she worried he might do something drastic to go back in Time and Return to 1987.

Part of her was a greedy lil bitch that didn’t wanna give him up, now that she’d him in her grasp where she could do everything from talk to him right down to make Love whenever she wanted to. But there was another, bigger part of her that knew the bassist was struggling, and that he might be better off going back in Time nearly three decades. Not everyone was strong enough to deal with this kinda thing like it didn’t nearly tear their mind apart like she was, and she accepted that there might come a Day that she was forced to let him go.


	7. Seven

The months continued to pass, and Bobby was able to more or less fully adjust to living Life in 2016, rather than 1987, as a man in his mid-twenties. By the End of the Summer, he was a lot happier than when all this’d first started, and not just ’cuz he’d the Love of his Life still at his side. While it’d taken a bit of Time, Rikki’d managed to convince the rest of the band–even Duff–that he was still alive, not to mention get them to come out East with him for a visit.

Despite everything he’d been through up to this point and was still going through, Life was looking pretty good for him. Waking up one Day a couple weeks after the Autumn Equinox with a killer headache was a bit of a surprise, though. He’d gotten plenty of headaches during the past few months, but nothing like this–this was like his skull’d been shattered, and he was recovering from a concussion.

Not only that, but his body was feeling like four different people’d grabbed him by the limbs, and they were each pulling in a different Direction. The bassist could barely move when he woke up, and getting to the bathroom just down the hall before he vomited all over the bed was quite the struggle. He certainly wasn’t expecting to wind up so lightheaded when he rose to his feet that he almost immediately passed out and fell. Thankfully, he didn’t feel his head slamming into the bathroom counter, nor what felt like his body actually being torn apart as something unexpected happened to him.

* * *

_“Bobby!”_

Gasping for Air like someone’d been strangling him, Bobby’s eyes flew open as he bolted upright wherever he’d wound up. His entire body felt sore, like he’d thrown himself around onstage way too much before diving into the crowd to crowd-surf, then run head-long into the side of the bus. Or maybe he should be saying head-long into the side of a brick building, ’cuz he felt like he’d fallen off a roof to go _splat!_ or something.

“Deep breaths, dude,” a voice he recognized said from beside him.

“R-Rikki?” he ground out, the owner of that voice rubbing his back with one hand, the other reaching down to press a button on the rail of the bed he now realized he was in.

“Yeah, it’s me, dude,” Rikki answered, sounding relieved as he chuckled. “God damn, it’s good to see ya awake again.”

“Huh–what happened?” the bassist asked, grimacing at how sore his throat and how heavy his chest felt. It was something he hadn’t felt in what seemed like decades, so he was beyond confused.

His friend assured him that he’d explain everything in a few minutes, a knock on the door he hadn’t noticed before cutting off any protest he coulda made. A man in a white lab coat with scrubs underneath entered the room, and he smiled when he saw him sitting up. It didn’t appear that the man cared that he was all but folded in half, his elbows propped on his raised knees, and seemed to be having at least a lil trouble breathing.

Bobby was forced to sit through the man–who introduced himself as Dr. Harris–giving him a thorough exam, which was highly irritating. The drummer stayed by his side the whole Time, only taking a step back when necessary for the doctor to check something, then moving back into place where he could continue rubbing his back.

Once the doctor left the room with orders that he get some rest, he turned his attention to the blonde he felt like he hadn’t seen in Years. He was so bewildered since the last thing he remembered with any sorta Clarity was having to head to the bathroom to vomit, but he was obviously in a hospital. Not only that, but Rikki didn’t look like the older man fighting cancer that he remembered seeing–he looked like the twenty-something version he’d left back in 1987. The bassist couldn’t figure out how he’d Returned to looking so young and relatively healthy, even though he was too solid to be a Ghost or anything of the sort.

The drummer explained that he’d stupidly gone onstage, knowing he was too sick to perform, just ’cuz it’d been the last Night of their tour. He’d been running a fever that they estimated was close to one-oh-two, and running around under those hot stage Lights combined with that’d caused his temperature to rise to dangerous levels. It’d been one-oh-six when he’d passed out, nearly head-butted the medic checking his blood pressure, and started seizing moments later. He’d been an ass-hair away from permanent brain damage, and it’d taken hours to cool him off enough to stop the seizures.

“Wait, how long’s it been since that happened?” Bobby asked, still confused.

“Dude, you’ve been out for a week,” he answered. “We almost wondered if you’d ever wake up again, to be honest.”

“It’s only been a week?” the bassist asked, looking shocked.

“Yeah, unless the Days’ve blurred together that bad and I’ve lost track of Time,” Rikki answered, his brow furrowing.

“I coulda sworn it’d been longer than that–way longer,” he said, now sounding confused.

“Whaddaya mean, dude?” the drummer asked.

“I mean, I coulda sworn it’d been twenty-nine Years, man,” he told him.

His friend couldn’t help laughing, telling him that it felt like it’d been longer than just a week for the rest of them, too. Knowing he didn’t get what he meant, Bobby shot him and pleading look and begged him to listen without calling him crazy. Cocking a brow, he nodded his agreement and grabbed the bassist’s hand to give it a gentle, but Comforting squeeze.

Taking a deep breath, he started to explain how he didn’t even remember coming offstage that Night, let alone any of what he’d told him afterward. He went into how he’d woken up in a soft, warm bed next to an equally soft and warm occupant. Thinking he was back at home, he’d been shocked to find out that not only was he nowhere near home, nor alone, but he was in a totally different Time period than what he shoulda been. He’d still looked the same, even woken up grimy from having been sweating so profusely during the show, but he wasn’t in Los Angeles, the last venue they’d played, or 1987.

Rikki thought his friend was nuts as he listened, but he kept his mouth shut as he went on to say that he’d woken up next to a woman about their age. The detail in which he described her was uncanny, ’cuz it sounded like he’d actually seen this young woman somewhere before and was describing her to a police sketch artist. His friend swearing she’d been a literal Witch who’d kept watch over him, sworn to help him figure out a way to Return to his own Time, and fallen in Love with him was crazy.

Unable to think of any better explanation, the drummer told him it musta been a seriously wild Dream induced by the fever he’d been running. Then again, maybe it was some kinda alternate World his mind had locked itself in during his short coma while his body was Healing itself from the cold he’d caught and the slight damage caused by the seizures he’d suffered. He wasn’t a head-shrinker by any means, so he couldn’t really come up with a better explanation, ’cuz he knew better than to believe he’d really teleported and Time Traveled. He’d been by his side more than he hadn’t during the past week, and he knew for a fact that other than breathing, he hadn’t moved a muscle the whole Time.

“Now I’m beyond confused,” Bobby said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I swear, it all felt so real to me, like it was actually happening.”

“I’m sure it did,” he told him. “Dreams’ve a funny way of doing that sometimes.”

“No, I mean it really felt like I was being torn apart before I woke up here in the hospital,” the bassist insisted. “Like four people’d tied me to four different trailer hitches and were trying to draw and quarter me.”

“Damn seriously?” Rikki winced.

“My arms, legs, and torso still hurt from it,” he answered, nodding.

“Well, that might just be from the seizures, too,” the drummer told him. “Ya were thrashing around pretty wildly every Time one’d hit. Hell, the medical staff thoughtcha were gonna break your neck, whether they stabilized it or not, during each one.”

Bobby couldn’t help a wince as he reached up to rub the back of said body part. “Okay, yeah–maybe that _is_ why I’m so sore, but I swear…”

“Hey, I’ve gotten to tossing and turning in my sleep from a nightmare, then woken up feeling like I’d really done whatever happened in said nightmare before,” he chuckled. “Could be the same for you, too.”

Unable to come up with a better explanation, the bassist simply nodded as he leaned back against the pillows propping him up. He was still clutching his friend’s hand as he started to doze off, Dark Circles around and bags under his eyes denoting just how exhausted he was. Wanting a reprieve from the pain he was in without getting painkillers was another reason he just wanted to go to sleep, and hopefully _not_ Dream about anything this Time.

Rikki continued to hold his hand as he fell into a deep sleep, his other rising to hold a single finger to his lips when the rest of the guys showed up about an hour later. They were ecstatic to learn that their friend had finally woken up for a lil while, and understood that he needed his rest so he could get released from this prison. It might take another week at the most, but they were just glad he was still alive and seemed to be the same ol’ Bobby they knew and loved. As long as whatever crazy Dream he’d been having for the last week didn’t Change him too drastically, they were pretty sure they’d be all right going into the Future.

It was another week before the bassist was doing well enough to be discharged from St. Mary’s Hospital in Green Bay, Wisconsin. The doctor advised against putting him on a plane since he still needed a nebulizer to help with the bronchitis he’d been diagnosed with. He might have even more trouble breathing than he still did in the thinner Air, which could get him landed in a Los Angeles hospital once they–well, landed.

Bobby was beyond glad to see the ratty lil apartment their manager, Howie, had found for them a few months before _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ was released the previous Summer. He couldn’t wait to just collapse on and sleep in his own bed after over a Year on the road, then another two weeks in a hospital. Never in his Life’d he met a bed that felt more like a slab of concrete than the one he’d been confined to in the hospital, and he never wanted to go back there. At least, not till he was an old, feeble man who couldn’t even wipe his own ass ’cuz he was almost too weak to do anything but breathe and blink his eyes.

The rest of the guys couldn’t help their grins as they got the lone brunette of their band settled into his bed, glad that he’d be all right. Even though it’d take a while–not to mention the antibiotics he was still on–to finish fighting off the bronchitis, he’d eventually get back to being his normal, crazy self. He just needed to rest for the Time being so he could do that, and having his friends to help him out when he needed it till then was a big help. They were like brothers, and they’d a bond that–while it might get strained from Time to Time–it’d never be able to truly be broken.


	8. Eight

After a couple months of serious rest and relaxation for all of them, Poison decided it was Time to get back into the studio. Convincing the rest of the guys to do such a thing wasn’t very hard for Bobby, mostly ’cuz they were all feeling that Creative itch like he was. Even convincing them that they were supposed to name whatever album they managed to record _Open Up and Say…Ahh!_ wasn’t very hard for him. Bret was all for the wild theme of the album as much as the other two blondes, and they all liked the idea of a demonic-looking woman as the cover Art to as an eye-catcher like they’d done with their previous album’s cover.

However, the poor bassist still seemed a bit shaken by what his friends swore was a fever-induced Dream while he was comatose in the hospital. There were Times that he’d swear he heard Aerin’s voice, only to realize she wasn’t actually with him wherever he was. Dreaming of her almost every Night–sometimes to the point of waking up hard as a rock or covered in his own cum–was a fairly regular occurrence, too.

The rest of the guys were starting to get worried about him by the Time Valentine’s Day rolled around a few months later. Every Time he’d tell them something like he’d Dreamt of the young woman again, that she’d a message she wanted him to pass on to one of them, they couldn’t help wondering how much more of his mind he’d lost. None of them wanted to believe the things he’d tell them, like CC was eventually gonna get fired and replaced by that Richie Kotzen he’d mentioned, if he didn’t get help for his coke addiction sooner rather than later.

Returning home from grueling Days–and sometimes equally long Nights–in the studio was always a treat for them. They’d lounge around the living room, just bullshitting and watching TV while they ate whatever take-out they ordered before they called it a Night. Most Times, the lone brunette was the quietest of them, but he’d always been that way, so the others didn’t really think much of it.

“All right, guys–I’m off to bed,” Bret said, groaning as he pushed himself up off one of the couches that Dominated their living room.

“Feeling better, now that you’ve eaten?” the drummer asked.

“Yeah, I can tell my sugar’s come up like it was supposed to,” he answered, nodding. “I doubt you’re gonna find me dead in the Morn, or anything crazy like that.”

“Might be a good idea to recheck your sugar, just to play it safe,” Rikki told him. “I think we’d enough seizures and shit when Bobby was in the hospital a couple months ago.”

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ Truth?” the frontman laughed. “Fine, I’ll recheck it before I actually go to bed, but I’m not far from heading that way.”

“I think we can all live with that,” CC chuckled, still nursing his beer.

“Yeah, I’ll second that,” the bassist agreed with a chuckle of his own.

Bret headed to the kitchen so he could recheck his sugar like he’d said he’d do, all of them knowing he stored his supplies in the cabinet next to the fridge. It mighta been an odd place to store such shit, but it was closer to where he needed to keep his insulin, so it kinda made sense. At least he wasn’t fighting them after what their friend had been through, which was always a plus in their books.

Reassured that his sugar really was fine once he’d checked it and said it was around one-twenty, the rest of the guys let their frontman head off to bed. They knew that his diabetes acting up could cause him to feel more tired than normal, and it could get really bad from there. None of them wanted to see him wind up hospitalized again for not taking his disease seriously, but Bobby prolly didn’t wanna see that happen more than anyone else. He knew what was still likely to happen to his friend several Years down the road, but he also knew he couldn’t tell anyone else.

Since they weren’t quite ready to go to bed yet, the other three members of Poison decided to just stay in the living room. They were careful to keep the noise to a minimum, all three of them knowing just how cranky their friend could get, if they kept him up. It might not be quite what they wanted, but at least they’d the Time to kick back and relax since they knew what was coming soon. With the release of another album, they knew another tour’d soon follow, and it was back to the grindstone for them.

A couple hours after Bret’d headed off to bed and was no doubt deep asleep, Bobby couldn’t help sitting up straighter from where he’d been slouching on the couch next to the drummer. Something didn’t feel quite right to him, like there was a weird quality to the Air itself that didn’t belong there. He couldn’t figure out what it was for the Life of him, but if he’d to describe it, he’d say the closest he coulda gotten was to say it felt like he was being watched by unseen eyes. Rikki noticed his friend’s distress and sat up a bit straighter himself, a hand gently grabbing his shoulder as he looked at him. He barely noticed that gentle gesture, nor his question, for a few moments as the grip registered in his brain.

“Huh?” he asked, his head snapping to his left where he sat.

“I asked if ya were okay,” the drummer repeated, a concerned look marring his features.

“Yeah, man–ya just totally zoned on us,” CC said, looking equally concerned. He was now sitting forward, as well, like he was poised to jump up and start shaking him like a rag doll.

“So, ya guys don’t feel that?” Bobby asked, now looking confused.

“Feel what?” the guitarist asked.

“I dunno–the easiest way to describe it’s like you’re being watched by unseen eyes,” he answered.

“I think you’re just getting tired, dude,” Rikki chuckled, gently clapping him on the back. “Maybe ya need to go on to bed, yourself.”

“Rikki, I know what I’m feeling,” the bassist insisted. “Something’s not right, but I can’t quite figure out how to word it.”

The pair of blondes sitting with him couldn’t help laughing softly, both agreeing that maybe his seizures’d done more to him than they’d thought a couple months ago.

“Damn it, guys–I’m not fuckin’ crazy!” he insisted.

“Yeah, and we don’t have dicks between our legs,” CC snorted, grinning at him.

Before any of them could say anything else, the pair of blondes stiffened like somebody’d goosed them when they were half-asleep. They both sat up even straighter than they already had and started looking around as if trying to find whoever’d done it. All three of them could feel the sudden Energy shift in the room, not to mention how it suddenly felt a few degrees hotter before the temperature plummeted enough to make them shiver.

They all rubbed their arms like they were outside in the cold, easily able to see their breath as they shot a look at each other. Moments later, Bret sleepily stumbled down the hall from his and the bassist’s bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers as he rubbed his eyes. He didn’t look very happy as he asked which one of them’d turned the AC down so low when it’d felt fine in their apartment, so they knew he could feel at least that part, too. They weren’t sure if he was aware of the Energy shift the rest of them felt, but they doubted he was awake enough for that just yet.

None of the other three got a chance to answer him before a sudden bright Light lit up the entire room, shocking the frontman fully awake as it blinded all of them. They raised their arms to Shield their eyes, each of them grimacing in pain from the blinding Light that was slowly Beginning to dim. Each man cautiously lowered their arm as it dimmed to a more tolerable level, shocked at what they saw.

On the ceiling over their heads, there appeared to be some kinda portal that went straight through the ceiling and even the room. They couldn’t see anything beyond that portal, whether it was the rafters in the attic Space or the Sky, itself. All they could see was the portal and what appeared to be Runes around its edges that glowed dimly, as well as a spinning Vortex within its Center. They each looked at each other, as confused as they were freaked out, wondering what the hell was going on and just how crazy they’d gone. Moments later, they looked back to the weird portal on their ceiling, their jaws dropping when they saw what appeared to be a human figure that was getting bigger.

_“Oof!”_ Bobby somewhat squeaked as something landed on him moments later, its weight driving him back into the couch.

“What the hell?”

Three sets of blue eyes were trained on him and whatever was now laying on him, which appeared to be a human.

“Fuck if I know,” he managed, panting softly from having the Wind knocked outta him.

“Is it even alive?” Rikki asked, cautiously reaching over to poke the figure.

“Touch me, and I’ll cut your finger off.”

Startled, the drummer jerked his hand back like he’d been bitten, but the bassist was even more shocked as the head on his chest lifted.

“A-Aerin?” he breathed, reaching up to gently brush the person’s hair back.

A soft chuckle answered him as the person straightened and finished the job, and he couldn’t help how his jaw dropped again.

“We meet again, Bobby,” the young woman laughed softly, now reaching up to brush his own hair back.

The young woman couldn’t help a laugh at the look on Bobby’s face as he registered what’d just happened, his band mates equally shocked. She knew what he’d been thinking for the past couple months ’cuz she was a far more powerful Witch than many knew. During his coma a couple months ago, some strange things’d happened to him, and she’d been there for all of it.

Aerin leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek, Silently reassuring him that she was real instead of a Dream and shocking the sense back into him. Those Chocolate eyes she’d fallen in Love with as much as the sweet personality and big heart blinked at her slowly, his lips still open in a surprised _O_ as he tried to think of something to say. It wasn’t him that broke the Silence, though, but rather the lone blonde standing across the room in just his boxers. They all otherwise appeared just as shocked as the brunette she was still pinning down by straddling his lap where she’d landed moments ago.

“Who the hell’re you?” Bret asked, his guard raised high.

“Definitely not a figment of his Imagination, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she laughed, turning to sit beside him so she could see the others, too.

“Wait, what?” This short question was posed by the shortest blonde she knew was CC.

“I know what you’ve been trying to convince him of the past couple months,” the young woman laughed. “He’s not crazy, nor was he simply Dreaming during that mini-coma.”

“Howddaya know that?” Rikki asked.

Turning to look at the target of her question, she smiled. “Still remember what I taughtcha about Astral projection?”

Bobby’s eyes widened as he recognized the term, which he’d never heard before meeting her in that supposed Dream World. “That I can have conscious Control over it, if I practice enough?”

_“Mmm hmm,”_ Aerin hummed. “But most often, folks do it without that kinda Control, ’cuz it usually takes on the form of lucid Dreaming.”

“So, you’re saying he _actually_ Time Traveled?” Rikki asked, shocked.

“Kinda, sorta,” the young woman answered. “Time doesn’t work the same way on the Astral plane, so what might seem like just a few minutes could be decades–or even the other way around.”

“That explains why he swears he Traveled to the Future and stayed there for months,” the drummer said thoughtfully.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya actually believe this shit,” Bret groaned.

“Watch it, sugar boy,” she warned. “You’re gonna wind up in just as much trouble as Bobby was a couple months ago, if ya don’t.”

“What’re ya gonna do to me–beat the shit outta me?” he asked, clearly goading her.

“Nope, ’cuz you’re gonna do enough of that on your own–especially in 1994,” Aerin answered matter-of-factly.

Rikki and CC looked surprised while the frontman looked confused, the lone brunette man looking neutral and not saying a word. When asked to elaborate, she tapped her chin thoughtfully as if debating answering him, then decided to answer with a question of her own. They were all surprised to hear her ask if he was actually gonna take her words to heart and actively work to Change his Fate, or if he was just gonna snort at her and call her an insane liar.

Startled by the question, it took Bret a moment to answer, but somehow he got the feeling that he needed to hear whatever she was gonna say and take it seriously. He couldn’t explain that feeling to save his Life, just like Bobby’d sworn he couldn’t explain what he’d started feeling before the temperature Change and opening of that portal a short while ago.

“I can’t explain why, but I feel like I need to hear it,” he finally said.

“If ya don’t quit being an idiot with your diabetes, the drugs, and the booze, you’re gonna wrap your Ferrari around a phone pole in May of the aforementioned Year,” Aerin stated bluntly. “You’re gonna just barely survive it, suffering a broken nose, jaw, and ribs, not to mention four broken fingers and knock four of your teeth out.”

“Holy shit,” the drummer and guitarist breathed in shock as he looked horrified.

“It’s said in 2016 that it’s a combo of low sugar, booze, and who knows what kind and how many drugs that make ya black out and lose Control in the middle of a street race on your way to some after party,” she continued. “Hence why I say, better watch it, or you’ll be paying quite the price.”

“Howddawe know you’re telling the Truth, though?” Rikki finally asked.

“Guys, she’s brutally honest, if nothing else,” Bobby finally spoke up. “Howddaya think I knew that, if he doesn’t get help for his coke problem, CC’s gonna be fired sooner rather than later?”

“Wait, seriously?” the guitarist asked.

Nodding, Aerin told him that he’d survive the album they were currently recording and one more before the others got sick of his attitude and the shit he did. He’d be replaced by Richie Kotzen, who’d been the one to replace the bassist when he disappeared in that odd Time Travel Dream he’d had while comatose. Unlike in that Dream, though, there’d be an album called _Native Tongue_ after that third album CC was featured on before his firing.

That was when she turned her attention to Rikki, who wasn’t quite sure what to make of the serious look that was not only etched on her face, but hardened the eyes she shared with the bassist. He was a bit surprised when she asked just how much detail said bassist’d given him about his Dream a couple months ago.

After thinking for a moment, he told her that Bobby’d said he was gonna face some serious Health problems in the Future, if he didn’t Change some of his own ways. The brunette wouldn’t elaborate on what those Health problems could possibly be, but he could tell that knowing what they were haunted him like a Ghost. Many of his Dreams involved one of his friends dying, or coming a lot closer to it than any of them could consider comfortable. Sometimes they managed to avoid whatever Death they’d been facing in his Dreams, other Times they didn’t, but they always left him shaken for Days after he’d have such a Dream.

Pausing for a few moments as she studied him, the young woman pursed her lips as she gauged any possible reactions. Then she finally took a deep breath and told him that if he didn’t quit being so careless with his sex Life, it was gonna lead to him being diagnosed with cancer in 2015. He was too shocked to ask her exactly what she meant, letting such a request for elaboration fall on one of his friends as his ears rang. Rikki didn’t wanna believe her, but she seemed to know shit about all of them that they couldn’t hope to and that she shouldn’t.

“Whaddaya mean, he’s gonna be diagnosed with cancer in the Future?” Bret asked.

“He’s gonna contract something called HPV, or human papillomavirus,” she answered.

“What the hell’s that?” CC asked, looking just as confused as his friends.

“HPV’s the most common sexually transmitted infection,” the young woman answered. “HPV’s a different virus than HIV–human immunodeficiency virus–and HSV, which means herpes simplex virus.”

“Holy shit,” the shorter blondes breathed, their friend still shocked into Silence.

“Seventy-nine million Americans, most in their late-teens and early-twenties, are infected with HPV,” she continued. “There’re many different types of HPV–some types can cause Health problems including genital warts and cancers. But there’re vaccines that can stop these Health problems from happening, at least in 2016.”

“So, not all types can cause cancer?” Rikki asked.

“No, not all types will–but you’re gonna get one of the strains that _does,”_ Aerin answered, nodding.

“Do I even wanna know what kinda cancer?” he asked, sounding more like a scared lil boy than a grown man.

“Oropharyngeal, which’s cancer of the back of the throat, including the base of the tongue and tonsils,” the young woman answered.

“Just like in my Dream,” Bobby said softly. “In that Dream, ya told me ya went to the doctor thinking you’d a cold or strep throat, only to get told there was a tumor at the base of your tongue.”

All of the blondes were now terrified into believing her, and while that wasn’t quite the End she was going for, Aerin was a bit relieved. Maybe now, they’d start believing their own friend more when he said something that most others’d construe as odd or flat-out crazy. She certainly hoped so, if only to prevent any fights from getting started that didn’t need to be since they’d enough on their plates.

Now they were all curious as to how she’d managed to get here, not just in her Astral form, but as a flesh-and-blood person they could actually see, hear, and even touch. The young woman laughed softly, telling them that it was so late that they might wanna hold off on that particular explanation. In addition, it might be a bit too much of a shock to their systems, considering what they’d learned in the last hour or so. Each of the three blondes looked like they wanted to fight her on that, which was what made Bobby step in again.

He swore up and down for at least the third Time that she was brutally honest, and if she didn’t keep her word about explaining once they’d gotten some sleep, he’d let them emasculate him. They could see the seriousness in his eyes, but there was another reason they chose to believe him when he said that. No man in his right mind was gonna do anything that’d lead to emasculation, especially not offer to let his friends do that to him, if he didn’t mean it.

Finally agreeing to that compromise, Bret headed back to his and the bassist’s bedroom while the others started getting ready for bed. After so many shocks in such a short Time period, they decided that they were too tired to watch even MTV and desperately needed some sleep. Aerin was well aware that the blondes–particularly CC–were thinking they’d wake in the Morn to find that this was all a crazy Dream they’d all wound up having simultaneously. What only their brunette friend knew was that this was no Dream, that she really had found a way to physically Travel back to 1987. He didn’t know why, but he was certain of two things–he’d find out the next Day, and he was sure it involved Love.


	9. Nine

Having seen Aerin again–this Time in an actual physical form–the Night before seemed like just another fantastic Dream to Bobby. There was no way that coulda really happened, as many Times as he’d Dreamt of her coming to him over the past couple months. It’d to be yet another figment of his Imagination come to tease him of what coulda been, had the Dream from his coma been real instead of just that–a wonderful, if confusing Dream.

So waking to an overly-warm bed again startled him enough to make him gasp, and rightfully so, considering how that Dream’d started out. He was almost terrified to open his eyes, part of him thinking that he’d somehow Time Traveled back to her and he was about to wake up in her bedroom again. There was no way his heart–not to mention his Sanity–could handle being teased like that a second Time.

The bassist still found the Courage to open his eyes, and he was relieved to see the same bedroom he always woke up in. Across the room, Bret lay sprawled out on his back in his twin bed, covers kicked mostly off and his pillow pulled over his head. Soft snores came from underneath that pillow as much as his thick mane of blonde hair–which woulda Circled his head like a Golden halo–did. His friend was obviously still deep asleep and completely unaware, and they always slept with their door locked to keep CC from pouncing on them. Realizing that begged to question–who the hell was in his bed with him, and how had they gotten there without waking him up?

Now he was almost terrified to take a peek back over his shoulder, part of him worried that whoever it was meant him harm. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look anywhore, but all he could see was long, Dark hair he knew wasn’t his. It was too straight, whereas his was Naturally wavy, even though it was practically the same shade of brown. Even though part of him hoped that it really was the young Witch he’d befriended in his Dream, Bobby was still startled into scrambling outta bed, leading to him all but landing on his face.

“What the–who’s there?” Bret snorted, bolting upright at hearing him let out a yelp.

“It’s just me, idiot,” he grumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“That wild a Dream, huh?” his friend chuckled sleepily, his eyes clearly still unfocused.

“No,” the bassist snapped, rubbing his forehead. “Dude, what the hell gives? Didn’t I tell ya not to lemme bring home any random chicks after a Night of drinking?”

“Uh, Bobby–ya weren’t drinking last Night,” he told him, sounding confused. “None of us were.”

“Then howddaya explain that?” Bobby pointed at his bed, where the lump of a figure could be seen curled up under the covers.

“What the–” the frontman said, kicking off what lil of his covers were still pulled over him.

“I dunno, man, but whoever it is, they freaked me the fuck out,” he told him. “I thought I’d woken up in 2016 again–this Time, for real.”

Bret snorted as he crossed the room and grabbed the top of the covers, which were pulled practically over the person’s head. The only part that could be seen was the top, the rest covered by a sheet and blanket or blocked by the hand he finally noticed in front of the person’s face. He felt his heart rate speed up a bit, ’cuz he’ only met one other person who slept like that–but part of him still thought he was Dreaming, that this was too good to be true.

Making sure not to wake the person, the blonde pulled the covers down to their chin so their face’d be revealed, if it weren’t for that hand. He gently pulled said appendage outta the way next, looking confused as he heard his friend gasp from the floor. Only one of them recognized the young woman, and the one who did was shocked utterly speechless as he drank in her appearance.

Just like when he’d awoken in his Dream, Bobby saw a complexion almost identical to his and eyes that tilted up, rather than down at the outer corners. She looked just as beautiful now as she had in his Dream, her face relaxed in slumber aside from when she smiled slightly at whatever Dream _she_ was having. The bassist couldn’t believe he was actually staring at the face he only saw in his Dreams as he crawled closer to the bed again and pushed himself up so he was kneeling next to it. He almost didn’t wanna wake her, but he knew he’d to do it anywhore, or he was gonna lose his mind pretty quickly.

_“Mmmph,”_ Aerin grumbled as she felt a hand brushing her hair back.

“Good Morn to you, too, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

_“Mmm,_ good Morn, Bobby,” the young woman answered groggily. “Da fuq ya wake me up for?”

“’Cuz ya ’bout made me shit the bed this Morn,” he chuckled as she cracked open her eyes. “I thought I’d woken up in 2016 again till I saw Bret across the room in his own bed.”

She simply chuckled before letting out a big yawn before pushing herself up.

“I’m serious, Aerin–in all the Dreams I’ve had since I got outta the hospital where that happened again, none of the guys’ve ever been across the room from us,” Bobby insisted.

“I know they weren’t, ’cuz they dunno how to Astral project,” the young woman said. “Meeting them on the Astral plane’s a total chance meeting ’cuz they’re lucid Dreaming when it happens.”

“All right, what’s all this talk about Astral this and lucid Dreaming that?” Bret asked.

“Lemme get woke up good, and I’ll be more than glad to explain it,” she laughed. “Preferably to the others at the same Time, but for right now, I’m not gonna make much sense to even myself.”

“Trust me, man–we need to get coffee and a smoke in her quick, or she’s worthless for about three hours,” the bassist chuckled. “’Cuz if her physical Self’s the same as her Astral Self–yeah, she’s a cranky Bear that can’t get her ass in gear for shit without them.”

“Then we need to get the other goofs up and coffee going,” his friend said. “’Cuz if I don’t get an explanation soon, my head’s gonna explode.”

Aerin laughed as she told him that his–and the other guys’–head was likely to explode, even once they got the explanation they wanted. Quite a few parts were confusing to those who didn’t know the first thing about them, and the explanations were often pretty long-winded. They also got into a lotta different topics, some of which was no doubt to get her called evil and a devil-worshipper, among other things, by at least one of them.

Despite the confused look Bret shot her, she shooed him from the room so she could get dressed and coffee could be started in the meantime. Bobby chuckled softly as he made his friend pull on a pair of PJ britches, then gently steered him out and closed their door behind him. If there was another way her physical and Astral Selves were likely the same, it was with her lack of Self-Confidence.

With the frontman working on coffee and checking his sugar, the bassist headed back down the hall to the door opposite of his. A half-growled response answered the knock he gave it, and he opened it just enough to be heard clearly, knowing Rikki was the one to answer him and half-asleep. The drummer groaned as he pushed himself up and shoved his hair outta his face, telling him he’d better close his eyes unless he wanted an eyeful. Not wanting any such thing unless it was coming from the young woman, he laughed softly and told him he’d be in the kitchen getting to work on breakfast since he was the only one with it enough to cook yet.

He wasn’t exactly surprised to see said young woman swatting Bret with a dish towel and running him outta the kitchen next as he walked into said room. Hearing her tell him to get out and stay out unless he was an ass-hair away from keeling over ’cuz of his diabetes also wasn’t any more of a surprise, nor was seeing her wearing his clothes. The bassist was actually amazed at how good she looked for wearing a pair of mens’ jeans that’d to be rolled up ’cuz they were way too long for her and one of his T-shirts that she’d tied in a knot in the back at her waist.

“Ya can quit drooling now, love,” Aerin laughed without even turning around as she made her coffee the same way she always had in his Dream.

“How’d ya–” the frontman started to ask, looking surprised.

“What–know that he’s staring at me and practically drooling?” she cut him off with another laugh. “Bret, I can feel things that others usually can’t, and I can generally always tell when I’m being watched. That goes for the seen eyes as much as the unseen ones.”

“Can ya blame me for staring, though?” Bobby chuckled, finally moving to embrace her. “Still look just as gorgeous in my clothes as ya did when ya stole them in that Dream.”

The young woman simply snickered as she sipped her mug, letting him pull her back against his front.

“Wait, she stole your clothes in that crazy Dream?” Bret laughed.

“All the fuckin’ Time, dude!” he answered with a laugh of his own. “I could almost never find a fuckin’ pair of boxers, ’cuz she’d steal them all and they’d be in the dirty clothes more often than not!”

“So boxers cover my ass better than panties,” Aerin snickered. “Bite me at the risk of getting bitten back since ya know I’ma Nikki Sixx kinda girl.”

That caught the rest of his band’s attention, Rikki and CC finally joining them after getting dressed and taking turns in the bathroom.

“Wait, you’re a Nikki Sixx kinda girl, butcha just randomly fell outta the ceiling on top of Bobby?” the drummer asked, bewildered.

“Oh, I’m just as much a Bobby Dall kinda girl–I’ve just got a much Darker, twisted side to me than he does, kinda like what Nikki’s got,” she answered.

Now they were really curious as she started breakfast between sipping her coffee, Bobby jumping in to help her like he’d done plenty of Times in his Dream. The way they moved in sync together, seemingly anticipating the other’s next move before they ever made it, suggested that they really had done such a thing before. Maybe it was on the Astral plane instead of the physical one, but they could obviously still work in tandem without hurting themselves or each other.

As they were working on breakfast, Aerin started explaining what was going on to the trio of the blondes while they gathered around the small table a few feet away. She explained how the Universe as they knew it was but one of possibly thousands or even more Realities, each as true as the next and last. Therefore, any Universe that Bobby’d Created in his own head during that coma wasn’t necessarily completely made up, but maybe one of the countless possible Endings to his story that he’d been lucky enough to see.

Of course, that led them to curiously asking just how on Earth she could be so wise and open-minded, which garnered them a response they didn’t expect. The bassist wasn’t surprised when she pulled something outta the neck of his stolen T-shirt and turned to reveal the double-tiered necklace she’d made and wore almost everywhere she went in his Dream.

“The hell’re ya wearing a devil symbol for?” Bret asked, automatically assuming the same thing that most of the Planet did.

“To me, it’s not a symbol of evil,” she stated, shrugging as she went back to cooking.

“I’ve never heard anything but it being evil and used by devil-worshippers,” the drummer agreed, rubbing CC’s back as he looked scared stiff of the symbol.

“In my World–as in, according to my beliefs–my Pentacle’s just as much a symbol of Protection to me as your cross is to you,” Aerin told him. “And in fact, if one looks at various Ancient writings and other historical logs, your cross has instilled more Fear into the Planet than my Pentacle ever has.”

The trio of blondes looked freaked-out, but equally curious, and the lone brunette couldn’t help laughing. “She’s actually right, guys. I started reading some of her books on Pagan history in my Dream, and honestly, Christianity’s a bigger source of evil than Paganism ever was.”

“Wait, whaddaya mean, Bobby?” the guitarist asked.

“Well, the easiest way to put it–Pagans’re teachers, students, Guides, followers, Warriors, peacekeepers, and many other things,” Bobby answered. “They’ll generally turn the other cheek and let Karma get Karma’s due–especially Air Witches like Aerin–but certain Witches’ll fight back when they feel the need.”

“As one of the sayings I live my Life by goes, _Do no harm, but take no shit,”_ said young woman chuckled. “Meaning I ain’t gonna hurt any of ya, magickally or otherwise–but mess with me, and you’re not gonna like or be able to take the can of whoop-ass I open on ya, if that’s what I choose to do.”

“So, you’re an actual Witch?” Rikki asked curiously. “Like, cast spells, actual Witch?”

“Actually, spell work’s the one part of Paganism I choose not to involve myself with,” she answered. “Too messy and complicated for my skill level, which ain’t nearly as high as my mom’s. Since I’d rather not hurt myself or anyone I love and don’t want a big mess to clean up later, I let my Power out in other ways that’re easy to Control.”

“Now I’m kinda curious whatcha mean by that,” the drummer said, and they could all hear that Curiosity in his voice.

Grinning, Aerin told him that a couple of her preferred methods were Crystal Healing, as well as something called _Grounding and Centering_. But another one of her really big go-tos was actually Music, ’cuz in being an Air Witch, she was also something called a Music Witch. That meant she let out her Power–whether she meant to or not–quite often when Music was involved, whether she was singing, playing, or listening to one of her favorite songs.

Wanting an example, the trio of blondes all but demanded to hear her sing something, which made her shoot a look at Bobby. As if reading her mind, he simply stared at her for a moment before a grin split his own face as he nodded at her. He obviously knew what she was about to do, and they suspected that was due to having met her months ago on the Astral plane.

Even as she continued to work on breakfast, the young woman took a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh. The bassist couldn’t resist tapping his fingers on the countertop in a rhythm he knew all too well, even though he couldn’t actually play the riff since he couldn’t play a twelve-string to save his Life. His friends almost immediately figured out why she’d sighed like she had once he started tapping his fingers, all of them recognizing the rhythm. Bret actually started tapping it out himself since it was his rhythm, allowing the brunette to wait till his actually kicked in about a minute later.

_“We both lie Silently still in the dead of the Night_ – _although we both lie close together, we feel miles apart inside… Was it somethin’ I said, or somethin’ I did_ – _did my words not come out right? Though I tried not to hurt you…though I tried… I guess that’s why they say…”_ she sang, nailing the rhythm their frontman’d been going for, just hadn’t been able to achieve in the studio as of yet.

“Holy shit,” CC breathed, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Oh, it gets better, C,” Bobby chuckled softly. “Just wait till she gets further into it.”

_“…every Rose has its thorn… Just like every Night has its Dawn…just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song… Every Rose has its thorn…yeah, it does,”_ the young woman continued. Her entire body moved in rhythm to Music only she could hear since the hadn’t actually been recorded in its entirety yet.

The guys just listened, amazed by how well she was doing so far.

_“I listen to our favorite song, playin’ on the radio…hear the DJ say,_ Love’s a game of easy come and easy go,” Aerin continued after a short pause. _“But I wonder…does he know_ – _has he ever felt like this? And I know that you’d be here right now, if I…coulda letcha know somehow… I guess…”_

“Damn, man,” Bret breathed, wondering how she could not only get the rhythm he was looking for down, but pour out the Emotions that’d made him even write this tune.

“She’s pretty damn good,” the drummer agreed. “It almost feels like she’s the one who wrote this, that it’s _her_ pain and heartbreak we’re hearing, not yours.”

The young woman simply smirked, only the bassist catching it since her back was turned to the table as she repeated the chorus. When she got to the bridge and third verse, they heard a Change of Emotion in her voice, could almost feel her Rage at pretty much being stabbed right in the heart by somebody she loved and trusted at one point. None of them, not even Bobby, could help a shiver at the lines _I know I coulda saved our Love that Night, if I’d…known what to say_ – _instead of makin’ Love, we both…made our separate ways. But now I hear ya found somebody new, and that I never meant that much to you_ – _to hear that tears me up inside, and to see you cuts me…like a knife_.

Bobby’d heard her play his riff from the song plenty of Times in that Dream he’d had during his coma, but she’d always refused to sing it. He’d felt the Emotions rolling off her in Waves, even when she’d played his fairly simple riff, so he’d never pushed the issue. Now he could both see and hear why she’d never wanted to sing it in that Dream, and he couldn’t help a wince. It wasn’t that she’d a horrible voice or anything, but rather ’cuz it obviously took a lot outta her in an Emotional sense.

It appeared that the trio of blondes agreed with that Thought, even though he hadn’t voiced it, as Aerin let her head hang for a moment after her last note. But like she always seemed to do when she got down in the dumps in his Dream, she was quick to lift her head again and square her shoulders like the stubborn young woman she was. Hardly anything besides some really bad physical pain kept her down in that alternate Universe, and it appeared that she wasn’t any different in Reality, no matter what Time period they were in.

“Fuckin’-A,” Bret breathed. “How the fuck did ya do that? I’ve been trying to get that kinda Sound for months, and I haven’t done it yet.”

“Ya will soon enough,” she told him, starting to plate breakfast.

“How ya can be sure, though?” the guitarist asked curiously.

“’Cuz I just sang it exactly like he did in the recording I had a copy of in 2016, albeit maybe with a bit more Emotion to it in some spots,” the young woman chuckled.

All their eyes widened in surprise, even the bassist’s.

“It might not be today, or even tomorrow, but it’ll happen before the album’s release in May,” Aerin told them.

“Wait, it’s slated to be released that soon?” Rikki asked.

“Well, it’s 1988, ain’t it?” she countered with a bit of snark. “Or did I get thrown back into the wrong Year?”

“No, it’s 1988, hon,” Bobby answered.

“Then it’s coming out in May, if things keep going the way they did leading up to the 2016 I knew,” the young woman told them matter-of-factly. “I’ve read a couple conflicting dates, so I’m not gonna say exactly when since even I’m unsure about that.”

“Whaddaya mean?” CC asked.

“Well, in 2016, we’ve something called the Internet–think of it like a giant dictionary, encyclopedia, and many other things all rolled into one, but on a computer,” she told him.

“Not quite sure we follow, but all right,” the drummer said.

“The Internet can be used to look up tons of shit the same way dictionaries and encyclopedias can now, plus so much more,” Aerin continued. “Going by what I read on the Internet in my Time, I’ve seen that _Open Up_ got released on May third in some places, May _twenty_ -third in others, and several more supposed release dates.”

_“Ahhhh,_ that makes a lil more sense now,” Bret said, nodding. “Kinda hard to tell us exactly when our own album’s supposed to be released, if ya can’t pinpoint the date yourself.”

Nodding, she started to pass out plates while Bobby was busy refilling coffee mugs and helping her with just about anything else she needed. After all, none of them were Octopi, or each one of the guys woulda been able to quite literally be a one-man-band. Well, they mighta had a bit of trouble playing two guitars, a bass, and drums all at once from not having enough legs for a kit, but that was beside the point since they were all pretty talented.

As they tucked into breakfast once they were seated, the bassist’s arm wrapped around her waist as she sat on his knee, she got the conversation back on track. She explained that during one of her Astral projections where she _didn’t_ meet up with their brunette friend during his Dream, she’d been told to pay close attention to everything that happened. If she did and followed her heart, she just might get an opportunity not afforded to very many, but she hadn’t known what the cryptic message’d meant at the Time.

When a portal’d opened in her living room before the fireplace, a hooded, cloaked figure’d stepped out and thrown back their hood. Introducing herself as none other than the Morrígan, she’d told her that she’d a choice to make that’d affect her Fate–and Fate was but one of the many things the Morrígan ruled over in Celtic Mythology.

She’d told her that she could follow her heart back in Time to the man she’d fallen in Love with, thus getting more Time with him than if they’d met in 2016 with him being the age of fifty-two, fifty-three at the oldest. Or she could stay right where she was in 2016, hope they one Day met and fell in Love on the physical plane, and just be grateful for the Time they got together. That Time might be thirty Years, or it might be as short as thirty Days–one never knew since few got the chance she was being afforded. With her Life at home with her mother not exactly being the best in a lotta ways, she’d decided to take the one-in-a-Lifetime chance she’d been Blessed with.

“So, ya literally came back in Time by nearly three decades, just ’cuz ya fell in Love?” Rikki asked, surprised by her explanation.

“Well, I fell in Love with him long before we actually met on the Astral plane,” the young woman admitted, her face turning pink. “Going back what I read online, if any of it was actually true, Bobby and I’ve a lotta similarities to our Pasts.”

“Like what?” Bret asked curiously.

“Depends on what all he’s told y’all about himself,” she said. “If he hasn’t told y’all, I’m not telling my own story so I don’t give away his, just in case it’s true and he didn’t want y’all to know.”

They seemed a bit miffed by that, each one grumbling softly.

“Look, I’m not trying to be an archaic tome or something–it’s called having Respect for him and his Wishes,” Aerin snapped.

“All right, all right–yeesh,” CC said, wincing. “No need to go eye-laser-shooting crazy girl on us.”

“While I’m pretty powerful for a Witch, even I can’t do _that,”_ she snorted with an eye-roll.

“If I’m honest, guys, I haven’t told ya everything,” Bobby finally sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Not ’cuz I’ve been trying to be Secretive or anything, but ’cuz it’s just hard to talk about without breaking down a lotta Times.”

The trio of blondes were surprised to hear their friend say that.

“Ya know how I always talk about my parents being supportive, even when we first moved out here with only four hundred bucks between me, Bret, Rikki, and Matt?” he asked.

“Yeah, we know that,” the drummer answered. “Well, CC kinda didn’t, but then again, we’ve only known him for a couple Years.”

“No worries, though,” the guitarist chuckled. “I’ve a few skeletons in my closet, too.”

“I’m sure we all do,” Bobby chuckled before continuing with his story.

They were surprised to hear him say that every Time he said his dad was supportive, he was talking about his _stepdad,_ not his biological father. He frowned almost viciously as he said that his biological father–the same man that’d also fathered his older siblings–had abandoned the family when he was only two Years old. He’d sworn up and down he hadn’t fathered the bassist, even though he and his wife hadn’t taken any measures to avoid having a third child, and that said wife’d an affair that’d resulted in the youngest Kuykendall sibling.

Due to Lynda Kuykendall’s ensuing divorce and her ex-husband turning into a dead-beat, she’d left her home State of Pennsylvania and moved to Florida with her own mother. That was why the bassist’d a bit of a Northern accent that sounded similar to Bret’s and Rikki’s, but it was also mixed with something else, too.

Aerin turned in his lap just enough to wrap her arms around him, and he couldn’t help a sigh at the Love and Comfort he could feel rolling off her. Even as he wrapped his own arms around her in Return, he was sure his friends could feel those things, too, as hard as it felt like she was projecting. It was a sensation he’d gotten used to in that Dream during his coma, ’cuz she’d done it all the Time to Calm him down when he’d start getting too anxious while trying to adjust to living in the Future. And now that she was with him in 1988 where he could actually touch her, the feeling was even more pronounced than in his Dream.

Once she’d managed to Calm and Soothe him enough that he wouldn’t break down, the young woman admitted that her own biological father’d abandoned her. Whether it was while she was still in utero or as an infant less than six months old depended on whose story one believed. She wasn’t too sure whether to believe her mother, her grandmother, both, or neither, but the facts were still the same–she’d grown up without her biological father, and she knew how Bobby felt as a result.

“No Wonder ya two connected enough to fall in Love on the Astral plane,” Rikki breathed in Awe.

“Well, I get what he’s been and is still going through without nearly as many words,” she told them. “All I’ve to do is look at him, and I can practically hear his Thoughts when he’s thinking about that, ’cuz they mirror my own.”

“But a big difference between us is that she’s the older sibling, I’m the youngest of my family,” Bobby said. “She’d to be the rock, the shining example, for her lil brother while my siblings’d to be that for me growing up.”

“And that’s just one of the differences between us,” the young woman chuckled. “Another’s that his Music tastes go back into the sixties and seventies, ’cuz that’s when he grew up. Most of the Music I prefer hasn’t even come out yet, if we’re really in 1988, ’cuz a lotta it’s from the nineties and 2000s.”

“I’m kinda curious about some of your other differences,” Bret told her.

“To steal one of your Future song lyrics, _I believe ya gotta make things happen_ – _you believe in Fate,”_ Aerin laughed. “The first half of that lyric’s totally Bobby, but the second half’s totally me.”

“What song’s that gonna be from?” CC asked curiously.

“Uh, uh, uh–I can’t give away too much of the Future, just ’cuz I know it,” she teased, playfully wagging a finger as she grinned.

“Oh, c’mon,” he half-begged with a laugh of his own.

“All I’ma say is that it’s from a song on an album you’re not gonna be on, if ya don’t heed the warnings about getting help for your coke addiction before it’s too late,” the young woman said. “If I say much more, it might Change the Future drastically, but not for the better.”

“’Cuz while he might heed the coke problem warning, it might cause problems elsewhere, right?” Rikki asked.

“Exactly. Telling too much could be a good thing by getting y’all to straighten up while there’s still Time, or it could be a really bad thing by making y’all spiral even more outta Control,” Aerin answered.

“And I don’t think any of us want the latter to happen,” the bassist said.

None of the blondes could disagree with his words, all of them saying that maybe it was a better idea for them _not_ to know what they were in for. Sure, having inside Knowledge from her could help in a lotta ways, but she’d a point in saying it could also be detrimental, too. If there was one thing they didn’t wanna do, it was tear the band to shreds in its infancy ’cuz she told them parts of how the Future was gonna play out as she knew it.

From there, they all just decided to live in the here and now while planning for any possible Futures as much as they could. The blondes were just glad to see their friend was so much happier, now that this young woman’d quite literally fallen into his lap. Maybe now they could more or less get back to Life as they knew it, just with a few tweaks and Changes here and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm prolly gonna End this story here unless I come up with another, very sudden spark of Inspiration. We're starting to basically get into the Beginning of one of my other stories, for those who've read the trilogy I'm talking about. For those who haven't, I encourage ya to go check out my story, Your One and Only, and the two that come after it over on Wattpad.
> 
> As a side note, I gotta say–with this particular image in mind, I might just start writing more stories that're set in the current Time period. If I could get my hands on this version of Bobby Dall, I don't think I'd be in need of a Time machine to take me back to somewhere between 1988 and 1994 anymore! LOL! Not too sure where she got it from, but credit for this pic goes to the owner of the page PoisonsFallenAngels on Instagram, 'cuz she's the one I saw the original post from.
> 
> ~Angel
> 
> Link to aforementioned image: https://www.instagram.com/p/B5tZXTmJNRe/

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapter that's more like a prologue than not, I know, but y'all should know by now that I'm utterly evil! Mwahahaha! I dunno 'bout anyone reading, but I'm eager to see where this goes, so let's, shall we?  
> ~Angel


End file.
